LIBRARY 


UHl 


SAN 


QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH 
STAGE 


QUEENS   OF  THE 
FRENCH    STAGE 


BY 

H.    NOEL  [WILLIAMS 

AUTHOR   OF    "MADAME   KECAMIER   AND   HER  FRIENDS,"    "MADAME   DE 

POMPADOUR,"    "MADAME   DE  MONTESPAN,"   "MADAME 

DU   BARRY,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 
CHARLES    SCRIBNER'S    SONS 

153-157    FIFTH     AVENUE 
1905 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.  THE  WIFE   OF   MOLIERE  i 

II.  MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESLE  ....       87 

III.  ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  .        .        .        .127 

IV.  MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO       .        .     197 
V.  JUSTINE  FAVART 223 

VI.  MADEMOISELLE  CLAIRON         .        .        .273 

INDEX 353 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


ADRIENNE  LECOUVREUR.    (Photogravure)       .        .          Frontispiece 
After  the  painting  by  CHARLES  COYPEL 

ARMANDE  BEJART tofacepage    24 

After   a    contemporary  drawing   in   the   collection   of 
M.  HENRY  HOUSSAYE,  of  the  Academie  Francaise 

JEAN  RACINE „          96 

From  an  engraving  by  VERTUE 

MAURICE  DE  SAXE „         168 

After  the  painting  by  HYACINTHS  RiGAUD 

MADEMOISELLE  PROVOST „         200 

After  the  painting  by  JEAN  RAOUX,  in  the  Muste  of  Tours 

MADEMOISELLE  DE  CAMARGO „         208 

From  the  painting  by  LANCRET,  in  the  Wallace  Collec- 
tion at  Hertford  House 

JUSTINE  FAVART „         240 

After  the  drawing  by  CHARLES  NICOLAS  COCHIN  fih 

MADEMOISELLE  CLAIRON „         296 

After  the  painting  by  CARLE  VAN  Leo 

ELIZABETH  BERKELEY,  Countess  of  Craven  (after- 
wards Margravine  of  Anspach)  ....  „          344 
After  the  drawing  by  SIR  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS 


vii 


qUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH 
STAGE         - 

i 

THE  WIFE  OF  MOLIERE 

FEW  women  in  French  history  have  been  the  subject 
of  more  discussion  than  the  young  girl  whom  Moliere 
married,  at  the  church  of  Saint-Germain  1'Auxerrois,  on 
February  20,  1662. 

Armande  Gresinde  Claire  Elisabeth  Bejart,  for  that 
was  the  bride's  name,  is  described  in  the  marriage  deed 
as  the  daughter  of  the  late  Joseph  B6jart,  Icuyer,  sieur 
de  Belleville,  and  of  his  widow,  Marie  Herv6.  Joseph 
Bejart,  it  should  be  stated,  had  died  shortly  before,  or 
shortly  after,  Armande's  birth. 

The  Bejarts  were  very  poor,  for  the  only  means 
which  Joseph  seems  to  have  possessed  wherewith  to  main- 
tain his  pretensions  to  nobility  were  derived  from  a  small 
government  appointment  (huissier  ordinaire  du  roy  es  earn 
etforets  de  France),  and  his  wife  had  presented  him  with 
"  at  least  eleven  children."  They  lived  in  the  Marais, 
then  the  theatrical  quarter  of  Paris.  On  its  northern 
outskirts,  near  the  Halles,  in  the  Rue  Mauconseil, 
stood  the  old  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  the  first  home  of 
the  regular  drama;  in  the  centre,  in  the  Rue  Vieille  du 


4    QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Temple,  was  the  theatre  which  took  its  name  from  the 
quarter,  the  Theatre  du  Marais,  where  Corneille's  Cid 
was  first  performed ;  while  nearer  the  Seine,  the  play- 
goer could  make  choice  between  the  Italian  troupes,  the 
Trois  Farceurs,  Gaultier-Garguille,  Gros-Guillaume,  and 
Turlupin,1  and  open-air  entertainments  on  the  Pont-au- 
Change,  the  Pont-Neuf,  and  the  Place  Dauphine.  It 
is,  therefore,  not  surprising  that  the  little  Bejarts  should 
have  been  in  the  habit  of  varying  the  monotony  of  their 
poverty-stricken  lives  by  occasional  visits  to  one  or 
other  of  these  spectacles,  or  that,  dazzled  by  those 
well-known  attractions,  which  were  doubtless  as  potent 
in  the  seventeenth  century  as  they  are  to-day,  the 
two  eldest,  Joseph  and  Madeleine,  should  have  de- 
cided, while  still  very  young,  to  make  the  stage  their 
profession. 

What  theatre  witnessed  their  dtbuts  we  do  not 
know.  The  majority  of  authors  are  of  opinion  that  they 
joined  a  company  of  strolling  players  which  was  at  this 
time  exploiting  Languedoc ;  M.  Larroumet  hesitates  be- 
tween one  of  the  unlicensed  playhouses  of  the  fairs  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Paris  and  a  troupe  of  amateurs, 
several  of  which  were  to  be  found  in  the  capital ;  while 
another  of  Madeleine's  biographers,  M.  Henri  Chardon, 
thinks  that  she  obtained  admission  to  the  Theatre  du 

1  Their  real  names  were  Hugues  Gueru,  Robert  Guerin,  and  Henri 
Legrand.  Apprenticed  to  bakers  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Laurent,  they 
deserted  their  masters  to  play  in  a  tennis-court  near  the  Estrapade,  a 
machine  invented,  in  the  days  of  Fran9ois  I.,  for  the  benefit  of  heretics. 
Turlupin  usually  played  a  roguish  valet,  Gros-Guillaume  a  pedant,  and 
Gaultier-Garguille  a  supremely  stupid  old  man.  They  eventually 
joined  the  company  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  whose  popularity  was 
immensely  strengthened  by  their  inclusion. — Hawkins,  "  Annals  of  the 
French  Stage,"  {.51. 


THE   WIFE   OF  MOLI&RE  5 

Marais,  though  it  appears  very  improbable  that  a  young 
and  inexperienced  actress  could  have  met  with  such  good 
fortune. 

However  that  may  be,  Madeleine  seems  to  have 
prospered  in  her  profession  from  the  very  outset,  as  on 
January  10,  1636,  supported  by  her  curateur,  one  Simon 
Courtin,  her  father,  a  paternal  uncle,  a  "  chef  du  gobelet 
du  roi"  and  divers  other  relatives  and  friends,  she 
appears  before  the  Civil  Lieutenant  of  Paris  *  to  request 
permission  to  contract  a  loan  of  2000  livres,  wherewith 
to  supplement  a  like  sum  of  her  own  and  enable  her  to 
acquire  a  little  house  and  garden  situated  in  the  Cul-de- 
Sac  Thorigny. 

Two  and  a  half  years  later  (July  n,  1638),  we  hear 
of  her  again,  under  circumstances  which  perhaps  explain 
her  desire  to  secure  a  residence  of  her  own — a  desire,  it 
must  be  admitted,  not  a  little  singular  in  a  young  lady 
of  eighteen — for  on  that  day  is  baptized  at  Saint-Eustache 
"  Fransoise,  daughter  of  Esprit  Raymond,  chevalier, 
seigneur  de  Modene  and  other  places,  chamberlain  of  the 
affairs  of  Monseigneur,  only  brother  of  the  King,  and 
of  the  demoiselle  Madeleine  Bejart." 

M.  de  Modene  and  Madeleine  were  not  married ; 
indeed,  there  was  already  a  Madame  de  Modene,  residing 
at  Le  Mans,  who  did  not  die  until  1649.  But  this 
trifling  accident,  as  it  was  regarded  in  those  days,  did 
not  prevent  the  son  of  the  former  (by  proxy)2  and  the 

1  The  Civil   Lieutenant  was,  after  the   Provost  of  Paris,  the  first 
magistrate  of  the  Chatelet ;  to  him  belonged,  among  other  functions,  the 
supervision  of  guardians  and  trustees  of  children  under  age  and  of  con- 
seils  de  famille. 

2  He  was  a  child  of  seven  or  eight,  and  his  father's  object  in  inserting 
his  name  in  the  acts  de  naissance  was  probably  to  annoy  his  unfortunate  wife. 


6         QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

mother  of  the  latter  (in  person)  standing  as  sponsors  to 
the  little  Frangoise,  whose  birth  was  fated  to  be  the  cause 
of  much  trouble,  not  to  her  guilty  parents,  but  to  two 
perfectly  innocent  persons,  one  of  whom  was  as  yet 
unborn. 

A  few  words  must  here  be  said  of  the  father  of 
Madeleine  Bejart's  child. 

Esprit  Raymond  de  Mormoiron,  Comte  de  Modene, 
who  was  then  about  thirty  years  of  age,  came  of  an  old 
family  in  the  Venaissin.  His  father,  Frangois  Raymond 
de  Mormoiron,  had  at  one  time  held  the  office  of  Grand 
Provost  of  France  and  had  also  been  employed  on 
several  diplomatic  missions.  Appointed  page  to  Gaston 
d'Or!6ans,  brother  of  Louis  XIII.,  he  became  later  one  of 
the  chamberlains  of  that  prince,  and  seems  to  have  done 
his  best  to  imitate  him  in  his  dissipated  and  turbulent 
conduct.  He  early  ranged  himself  among  the  enemies 
of  Richelieu,  joined  the  famous  league  "  for  the  universal 
peace  of  Christendom,"  and  fought  on  its  behalf  at  the 
battle  of  La  Marf£e,  at  the  head  of  a  body  of  cavalry 
which  he  had  raised  at  his  own  expense.  In  consequence 
of  this,  he  was  condemned  to  death,  by  a  decree  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris  (September  6,  1641),  but  took 
refuge  in  Flanders,  with  the  Due  de  Guise,  against  whom 
a  similar  sentence  had  been  pronounced,  and  remained 
there  until  the  death  of  Richelieu,  followed  by  that  of 
Louis  XIII.,  left  him  at  liberty  to  return  to  France. 
When,  in  1647,  Guise  went  to  Naples,  to  endeavour  to 
exploit  the  revolt  of  Masaniello  to  his  own  advantage, 
Modene  accompanied  him  and  greatly  distinguished 
himself.  He  was  eventually,  however,  taken  prisoner 
by  the  Spaniards  and  held  captive  until  1650.  On  his 
return  to  France,  he  meddled  no  more  with  public  affairs, 


THE   WIFE  OF   MOLI^RE  7 

but  occupied  himself  with  the  care  of  his  neglected 
estates  and  in  the  compilation  of  a  valuable  history  of 
the  revolution  in  Naples,  reprinted,  in  1826,  under  the 
title  of  Memoires  du  Comte  de  Modem.  It  is  to  be  noted 
here  that  from  the  early  autumn  of  1641  until  the 
summer  of  1643  the  Comte  de  Modene  was  absent 
from  France. 

Some  time  in  the  early  weeks  of  the  year  1643, 
probably  either  in  the  last  week  in  February  or  the 
first  in  March,  Madeleine's  father,  Joseph  Bejart  the 
elder,  died;  and  on  March  10,  Marie  Herve,  his 
widow,  presented  herself  before  the  Civil  Lieutenant  of 
Paris,  where,  in  the  name,  and  as  guardian,  of  Joseph, 
Madeleine,  Genevieve,  Louis,  and  "  a  little  girl  not  yet 
baptized"  children  under  age  (i.e.  under  twenty-five)  of 
the  said  deceased  and  herself,  she  represented  that  "  the 
inheritance  of  her  deceased  husband  being  charged  with 
heavy  debts  without  any  property  wherewith  to  acquit 
them,  she  feared  that  it  would  be  more  burdensome  than 
profitable,"  and,  accordingly,  declared  her  intention  of 
renouncing  it.  Her  request  was  supported  by  her 
brother-in-law,  Pierre  Bejart,  procureur  to  the  Chatelet, 
and  other  relatives,  and  on  June  10  of  the  same  year  she 
was  permitted  to  make  the  renunciation  she  desired. 

Now  who  was  this  "  little  unbaptized  girl "  ?  With- 
out a  shadow  of  doubt,  Armande  Bejart,  the  future  wife 
of  Moliere ;  on  this  point  all  the  poet's  biographers  are 
unanimous.  Was  she,  as  represented,  the  daughter  of 
Marie  Herve  ?  That  is  the  question  which  has  afforded 
material  for  a  controversy  which  has  already  lasted  for 
nearly  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  and  seems  not 
unlikely  to  continue  till  the  end  of  all  things,  for  the 
most  fantastic  theories,  for  a  small  library  of  books  and 


8    QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

pamphlets,  and  for  review  and  newspaper  articles  with- 
out number.  For  some  see  in  this  little  girl  a  sister, 
others  a  daughter  of  Madeleine  Bejart,  and  the  truth  is 
of  the  most  vital  importance  to  the  honour  of  the  great 
man  whose  wife  Armande  became. 

That  the  latter  impression  was  almost  universal 
amongst  Moliere's  contemporaries  is  beyond  question, 
nor  is  the  fact  one  that  need  occasion  any  surprise. 
Every  one,  that  is  to  say,  every  one  connected  with,  or 
interested  in,  the  theatrical  world,  was  aware  that,  early 
in  life,  Madeleine  Bejart  had  had  a  little  girl ;  while,  on 
the  other  hand,  the  birth  of  Marie  Herve's  child,  which 
was  of  no  public  interest,  and  which,  moreover,  probably 
took  place  not  in  Paris,  but  in  one  of  the  adjacent  villages,1 
was  known  to  very  few.  A  young  girl  grew  up  with 
Madeleine,  who  was  tenderly  attached  to  her ;  it  was 
Armande ;  but  gossip  confounded  her  with  the  child 
Fran9oise,  of  whom  all  trace  seems  to  have  been  lost, 
and  the  wiseacres  smiled  the  smile  begotten  of  superior 
knowledge  when  any  stranger  to  Paris  chanced  to  refer 
to  the  girl  as  Madeleine's  sister. 

For  over  a  century  and  a  half  this  belief  remained 
unchallenged.  Hostile  or  sympathetic,  all  who  wrote  of 
Moliere — La  Grange,  Grimarest,  Breuze  de  la  Martiniere, 
Bayle,  Donneau  de  Vise — shared  the  common  opinion  in 
regard  to  the  origin  of  Armande  Bejart.  In  1821,  how- 
ever, there  was  quite  a  flutter  of  excitement  in  literary 

1  This  is  Jal's  conclusion.  While  compiling  his  famous  Dictionnairt 
critique  de  Biographic  et  d1  Histoire,  he  made  an  exhaustive  search  of  the 
registers  of  all  the  old  parishes  of  Paris — there  were  sixty-eight — but 
failed  to  discover  either  the  acte  de  naissance  of  Armande  or  the  death 
certificate  of  Joseph  Bejart,  which  two  events  must  have  taken  place 
within  a  few  days  of  each  other. 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLI&RE  9 

circles,  for  in  that  year  Beffara  discovered  Moliere's  acte 
de  manage,  in  which  Armande  is  spoken  of  as  the 
daughter  of  Joseph  Bejart  and  his  widow,  Marie  Herve. 
Forty-two  years  later,  the  old  scandal,  which  in  the 
interim  had  been  partly  revived  by  M.  Fournier  (Etudes 
sur  la  vie  et  les  centres  de  Moliere)  and  M.  Bazin  (Notes 
historiques  sur  Moliere},  received  another  severe  blow  by 
Eudore  Soulie's  discovery  of  the  deed  of  March  10,  1643, 
already  mentioned,  wherein  Marie  Herve  requested  per- 
mission to  renounce  the  succession  to  her  husband's 
property,  and  which  confirmed  the  statement  made  in 
the  acte  de  manage.  Such  evidence,  one  would  naturally 
suppose,  would  have  been  accepted  as  conclusive,  and  the 
matter  set  at  rest  once  and  for  all.  But  tradition  dies 
hard ;  not  a  few  Molieristes  refused  to  renounce  an 
opinion  sanctioned  by  so  many  generations,  and  M.  Jules 
Loiseleur,  a  writer  who  enjoyed  a  considerable,  and  not 
undeserved,  reputation  as  an  unraveller  of  historical 
mysteries,  propounded,  on  behalf  of  his  fellow-sceptics, 
the  following  theory. 

The  declarations  made  by  Marie  Herv£,  in  the  deed 
of  March  10,  1643,  and  again  in  the  acte  de  manage,  that 
Armande  was  her  child,  were,  he  maintains,  deliberate 
falsehoods,  conceived  in  the  interests  of  her  daughter, 
Madeleine.  At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1643,  Made- 
leine was  about  to  become  a  mother,  for  the  second  time, 
not,  of  course,  by  the  Comte  de  Modene,  who  had  been 
in  exile  for  nearly  two  years,  but  by  some  new  lover. 
Fearing  that  if  Modene  returned  and  learned  the  fact, 
he  would  refuse  to  resume  the  liaison,  which  she  hoped 
might  one  day  be  regularised  (M.  Loiseleur  was  under 
the  impression  that  Madame  de  Modene  was  dead, 
whereas  she  lived  until  1649),  she  begged  her  mother 


io      QUEENS  OF   THE  FRENCH   STAGE 

to  recognise  the  child  as  her  own ;  a  request  to  which 
that  complacent  old  lady,  whose  husband  was  just  dead, 
or  on  the  point  of  death,  readily  consented. 

Now  this  ingenious  theory  is  based  on  the  advanced 
age  of  Marie  Herve — she  was  then  about  fifty-three — and 
the  belief  that  she  had  not  had  a  child  since  the  birth  of 
Louis  Bejart,  afterwards  a  prominent  member  of  Moliere's 
troupe,  who  was  born  on  November  14  or  15,  1630,  that 
is  to  say,  more  than  twelve  years  earlier,  which  facts 
rendered  it  highly  improbable  that  she  could  have  been 
the  mother  of  Armande ;  and  M.  Loiseleur  supports  his 
contention  by  pointing  out  that  the  two  eldest  children, 
Joseph  and  Madeleine,  described  in  the  deed  of  March 
io,  1643,  as  minors,  were  over  twenty-five,  and  that  their 
age  was  purposely  understated  to  make  their  mother 
appear  younger  than  she  was,  and  so  facilitate  the  fraud. 
This  point  has  been  contested  by  Mr.  Andrew  Lang, 
in  his  admirable  article  on  Moliere  in  the  Encyclopaedia 
'Britannica,  but  is  really  of  no  importance,  as  if  M. 
Loiseleur  had  exercised  a  little  more  care,  he  would  have 
found  that  so  far  from  more  than  twelve  years  having 
elapsed  between  the  birth  of  the  last  of  Marie  Herve's 
children  and  that  of  Armande,  she  had  had  a  little  girl 
less  than  three  and  a  half  years  before  (November  30,  1639), 
baptized,  in  the  parish  of  Saint-Sauveur,  by  the  name 
of  Benigne  Madeleine,  the  second  name  being  doubtless 
intended  as  a  compliment  to  Madeleine  Bejart,  who 
acted  as  marraine.1  Whereby  M.  Loiseleur's  argument 
disappears,  and  his  theory  with  it. 

Nevertheless,  the  fact  remains  that  Armande's  con- 
temporaries saw  in  her  not  a  sister,  but  a  daughter  of 

1  Jal,  Dictionnaire critique  de  Biographie  et  d'Histoire,  Article  "  Bejart." 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfiRE  u 

Madeleine  Bejart,  and,  with  this  belief,  they  held  another, 
to  wit,  that  Moliere  had  been,  previous  to  his  marriage 
with  the  younger  sister,  the  lover  of  the  elder.  From 
which  two  suppositions  sprang  one  of  the  most  hideous 
accusations  that  has  ever  sullied  the  reputation  of  a 
great  man. 

Moliere,  like  most  successful  men,  had  a  good  many 
enemies,  and  was  accustomed  to  give  and  receive  very 
hard  knocks.  With  the  company  of  the  Theatre  du 
Marais  he  appears  to  have  been  on  tolerably  amicable 
terms ;  but  with  the  actors  of  the  third  great  theatre, 
the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  his  relations  were  decidedly 
strained,  and  whenever  an  opportunity  arose  of  turning 
one  or  other  of  them  into  ridicule,  he  seldom  failed  to 
avail  himself  of  it,  though  he  made  an  exception  in  the 
case  of  Floridor,  who  was  too  great  a  favourite  with  the 
public  for  them  to  tolerate  any  attacks  upon  him.  In 
his  Impromptu  de  Versailles^  played  before  the  Court 
in  October  1663,  Moliere  satirised  several  actors  of 
the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  and,  among  them,  one  named 
Montfleury,1  whose  ponderous  style  of  declamation  he 
imitated  with  great  success.  To  this,  Montfleury's  son, 
Antoine  Montfleury,  who  was  a  prolific  and  successful 
dramatist,  replied  with  another  play,  called  r Impromptu 
de  FMtel  de  Conde^  in  which  he  endeavoured  to  turn 
the  tables  on  Moliere ;  but  the  vengeance  of  the  father 
took  a  very  different  form. 

1  His  real  name  was  Zacharie  Jacob.  A  gentleman  by  birth,  he  had 
been  educated  for  the  army  and  had  served  the  Due  de  Guise  as  page, 
but  his  passion  for  the  theatre  led  him  to  become  an  actor.  In  spite  of 
the  ridicule  to  which  he  was  subjected  by  Moliere,  he  was  an  excellent 
tragedian,  and  in  parts  made  up  of  "  transports  and  bursts  of  rage  "  much 
admired.  His  death,  which  occurred  in  1668,  is  said  to  have  been 
caused  by  over-exertion  as  Orestes  in  Racine's  Andromaque. 


12       QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

In  December  1663,  Racine  wrote  to  the  Abbe  Le 
Vasseur :  "  Montfleury  has  drawn  up  a  memorial  and 
presented  it  to  the  King.  He  accuses  him  [Moliere] 
of  having  married  the  daughter  [Armande],  and  of 
having  formerly  lived  with  the  mother  [Madeleine], 
But  Montfleury  is  not  listened  to  at  Court." l  From 
this  passage  it  is  evident  that  Montfleury  intended 
Louis  XIV.  to  believe  that  Moliere  had  married  his 
own  daughter ;  which  is  the  starting-point  of  the 
abominable  calumny  which  so  long  weighed,  and  which 
still  weighs,  on  the  memory  of  the  great  dramatist. 

Beyond  what  Racine  tells  us,  we  have  no  information 
about  this  memorial  of  Montfleury.  That  he  advanced 
any  proofs  in  support  of  his  accusation  is  extremely  im- 
probable ;  although  it  is  quite  possible  that  he  would 
have  endeavoured  to  substantiate  it  had  he  received  any 
encouragement  from  the  King.  Any  way,  Louis  XIV. 
appears  to  have  satisfied  himself  that  the  charge  was 
merely  the  outcome  of  jealousy  and  spite,  and  when, 
in  the  following  February,  Moliere's  first  child  was 
baptized  at  Saint-Germain  1'Auxerrois,  he  and  his 
sister-in-law,  the  ill-fated  Henrietta  of  England,  stood 
sponsors.  Than  which  the  poet  could  have  desired 
no  more  complete  reparation. 

Thirteen  years  later,  in  1676,  that  is  to  say,  three 
years  after  Moliere's  death,  Montfleury's  accusation  was 
repeated.  A  man  of  the  name  of  Guichard,  a  sort  of 
entrepreneur  for  fe*tes  and  plays,  coveted  Lulli's  post  as 
director  of  the  recently-established  Opera,  and,  seeing 
no  likelihood  of  realising  his  ambition  by  any  legitimate 
means,  had  recourse  to  poison,  the  fashionable  expedient 
for  ridding  oneself  of  professional  rivals  and  other  incon- 

1   (Euvres  completes  de  J.  Racine  (edit,  a"  dime- Martin),  vi.  136. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfiRE  13 

venient  persons  at  this  period.  One  Sebastian  Aubry, 
a  connection  of  the  Bejarts,  was  entrusted  with  the 
commission ;  but,  instead  of  executing  it,  he  informed 
Lulli,  who  promptly  invoked  the  protection  of  the 
law.  An  inquiry  was  held  and  numerous  witnesses 
called  for  the  prosecution,  among  whom  was  the  widow 
of  Moliere.  In  order  to  discredit  the  testimony  of 
these  witnesses,  Guichard  drew  up  a  memorial,  in 
which,  besides  making  the  most  infamous  charges 
against  Armande's  moral  character,  of  which  we  shall 
speak  later,  he  alluded  to  her  as  "  the  orphan  of  her 
husband "  and  "  the  widow  of  her  father."  Unlike 
Montfleury,  however,  who  was  an  old  and  respected 
member  of  his  profession,  Guichard  appears  to  have 
been  a  consummate  scoundrel,  capable  of  any  villainy 
to  serve  his  ends;  and  we  can  hardly  believe  that  a 
charge  made  by  such  a  person  could  have  excited  any 
feelings,  save  those  of  indignation  and  disgust. 

However,  unhappily,  other  pens  were  not  wanting 
to  keep  alive  this  hideous  calumny.  It  is  true  that 
there  are  no  further  direct  accusations;  but  there  are 
allusions,  which,  as  they  appear  in  works  that  enjoyed, 
in  their  day,  a  considerable  circulation,  must  have 
answered  much  the  same  purpose.  In  1770,  seven 
years  after  Montfleury  had  set  the  ball  rolling,  a 
certain  Le  Boulanger  de  Chalussay,  of  whom  little  or 
nothing  seems  to  be  known,  attacked  Moliere  in  a 
play  called  Elomire  hypocondre,  ou  les  Mddicins  vengts — 
Elomire  being,  of  course,  an  anagram  of  Moliere. 
This  play,  intended  as  a  reply  to  the  great  dramatist's 
repeated  attacks  on  the  medical  profession,  was  a  fatuous 
production,  dull,  confused,  and  encumbered  with  an 
absurd  number  of  characters ;  and  the  company  of  the 


i4       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

Hotel  dc  Bourgogne,  to  whom  it  was  submitted,  very 
prudently  declined  to  accept  it,  notwithstanding  which 
the  author  caused  it  to  be  printed  and  circulated.  In 
one  scene,  Elomire  speaks  of  the  care  he  is  taking  to 
train  up  his  wife  in  the  way  he  would  have  her  go,  in 
order  to  avoid  all  risk  of  finding  himself  numbered 
among  deceived  husbands.  Thereupon,  his  confidant 
reminds  him  of  the  fate  which  befell  Arnolphe  in  the 
Ecole  des  femmes,  in  spite  of  all  his  precautions.1 
But  Elomire  replies  that  he  is  better  advised  than 
Arnolphe : — 

"  Arnolphe  commenca  trop  tard  h.  la  forger  ; 
C'est  avant  le  berceau  qu'il  y  devoit  songer, 
Comme  quelqu'un  1'a  fait." 

Moliere  demanded  and  obtained  the  suppression  of 
Elomire  hypocondre ;  but  this  only  had  the  effect  of 
stimulating  its  circulation,  as,  in  the  following  year,  a 
new  edition  was  clandestinely  printed  in  the  provinces, 
and,  in  1672,  a  third  was  produced  by  the  Elzevirs,  in 
Holland. 

Another  allusion  occurs  in  a  scandalous  work  entitled 
La  Fameuse  Comedienne,  published  anonymously  in  1688, 
of  which  we  shall  have  a  good  deal  to  say  hereafter : 
"  She  [Armande]  was  the  daughter  of  the  deceased 
Bejart,  a  provincial  actress,  who  was  making  the  bonne 
fortune  of  numbers  of  young  gentlemen  in  Languedoc 
at  the  time  of  the  auspicious  birth  of  her  daughter. 
That  is  why  it  is  very  difficult,  in  the  face  of  such 
promiscuous  gallantry,  to  say  who  was  the  father."  And 
the  writer  concludes  :  "  She  is  believed  to  be  the  daughter 

1  See  p.  33,  infra. 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLI&RE  15 

of  Moliere,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  afterwards 
became  her  husband ;  however,  one  does  not  really 
know  the  truth." 

It  appears  to  be  the  tendency  among  modern  writers, 
while  indignantly  repudiating  the  accusation  of  Mont- 
fleury,  to  accept  with  complacency  the  opinion  of 
Moliere's  contemporaries  that  his  relations  with  Made- 
leine Bejart  had  been,  at  one  time,  on  a  closer  footing 
than  that  of  friendship.  In  this  they  show  a  singular 
want  of  consistency,  for,  as  M.  Gustave  Larroumet,  than 
whom  Moliere  has  no  more  ardent  admirer,  very  justly 
observes,  the  two  suppositions  are  inseparable,  and  those 
who  admit  the  probability  of  the  second  cannot  well 
deny  the  possibility  of  the  first,  provided,  of  course,  that 
they  hold,  with  M.  Loiseleur,  that  Marie  Herv6  had 
been  guilty  of  fraud  in  the  documents  discovered  by 
Beffara  and  Eudore  Souli£,  and  that  Armande  was  the 
daughter  of  Madeleine.1 

Let  us,  however,  look  at  the  facts  as  briefly  as  may 
be,  since  the  subject  is  not  one  upon  which  it  profits 
greatly  to  dwell. 

Moliere's  connection  with  the  Bejart  family  is  com- 
monly believed  to  have  begun  some  time  in  1641  or 
1642.  In  June  1643,  Madeleine  Bejart,  with  her  younger 
sister  Genevieve,  and  her  brothers,  Joseph  and  Louis, 
joined  Moliere  and  several  others  in  founding  the 
Illustre  Theatre.  She  remained  faithful  to  Moliere's 
fortunes  during  those  disastrous  two  years,  when  the 
receipts  of  the  new  theatre  did  not  suffice  to  discharge 
the  ordinary  working  expenses,  and  its  chief  was,  on  one 
occasion,  imprisoned  in  the  Chatelet,  until  the  bill  of  an 

1   M.    Gustave   Larroumet,  La    Comedie    de  Moliere  t  I'auteur   et    le 
milieu,  p.  85- 


1 6   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

importunate  candle-merchant  had  been  settled.  When 
the  company  left  Paris,  in  the  spring  of  1646,  on  its 
twelve  years'  wanderings  through  the  provinces,  she  ac- 
companied it,  and,  in  addition  to  playing  in  nearly  every 
piece,  appears  to  have  superintended  the  costumes  and 
scenery,  and  regulated  the  expenses,  at  least  so  far  as 
concerned  Moliere  and  the  three  other  Bejarts.  Finally, 
when  Moliere  returned  to  Paris,  in  1658,  and  the 
company  was  installed,  first,  at  the  Petit-Bourbon  and, 
afterwards,  at  the  Palais-Royal,  she  retained  her  place 
and  continued  to  play  regularly  down  to  the  time  of  her 
death  on  February  17,  1678,  exactly  a  year  before  that 
of  Moliere  himself. 

An  admirable  actress,  one  of  the  best  of  her  time, 
according  to  Tallemant  des  R£aux,  ready  to  undertake 
almost  any  role  in  either  tragedy  or  comedy,  she  excelled 
in  depicting  smartly-attired  maids,  who  ridicule  the 
follies  of  their  employers  with  equal  wit,  impudence, 
and  good  sense,  and,  but  for  her,  Moliere  might  never 
have  created  his  inimitable  soubrettes}  She  was,  more- 
over, remarkably  handsome,  tall  and  graceful,  with  hair 
of  a  peculiarly  beautiful  blonde  hue,  and  La  Fontaine, 
Loret,  and  other  contemporaries  speak  of  her  in  terms 
of  unfeigned  admiration ;  while  she  seems  to  have 
possessed  some  literary  ability,  having,  when  a  girl  of 
eighteen,  addressed  a  quatrain  to  Rotrou,  who  had  just 
produced  his  Hercule  mourant  at  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne 
— which  so  delighted  the  dramatist  that  he  published  it 
in  an  edition  of  his  work — and  also  adapted  an  old 
comedy,  which  was  performed  by  the  II lustre  Theatre 
in  the  provinces. 

That  a   very   warm   friendship   and   regard   existed 
1  Hawkins,  "Annals  of  the  French  Stage,"  ii.  61. 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLI^RE  17 

between  Madeleine  and  Moliere  is  certain,  nor  does  what 
we  know  of  the  latter's  relations  with  other  ladies  of  his 
troupe  render  a  closer  connection  improbable.  In  1653, 
at  Lyons,  the  Illustre  Theatre  was  strengthened  by  the 
accession  of  two  actresses,  Mile,  du  Pare  and  Mile,  de 
Brie,1  both  destined  to  rise  to  eminence  in  their  profession. 
Moliere  promptly  fell  in  love  with  the  former,  who, 
however,  rejected  his  addresses,  as  she  subsequently  did 
those  of  Pierre  Corneille  and  La  Fontaine,  upon  which 
the  mortified  dramatist  transferred  his  attentions  to  the 
less  attractive,  but  more  sympathetic,  Mile,  de  Brie,  and 
formed  with  her  a  liaison  which  appears  to  have  lasted 
until  his  marriage,  and  was  resumed  at  a  later  date. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  scarcely  surprising 
that  contemporary  gossip  should  have  coupled  the  names 
of  Moliere  and  Madeleine  together — "  M.  Despreaux 

1  They  were  both  married  women  and  the  wives  of  actors,  who 
joined  Moliere's  company  at  the  same  time.  At  this  period,  and  indeed 
for  long  afterwards,  actresses  bore  officially  the  title  of  "  demoiselle,"  as 
did  all  women  other  than  the  wives  of  the  nobility,  or  of  ennobled 
citizens,  or  daughters  of  noble  parents  who  had  married  citizens :  these 
were  styled  "dame"  and  "madame."  Thus,  we  find  Colbert,  before 
he  rose  to  fame,  "  offering  a  coach  to  Mademoiselle,  his  wife ; "  the 
mother  of  La  BruySre  described  in  a  legal  document  as  a  "  demoiselle 
veuve "  ;  while  La  Fontaine,  in  his  correspondence,  invariably  refers  to 
his  wife  as  "  Mademoiselle."  People  spoke  also  of  la  Du  Pare,  la  de 
Brie,  la  Bejart,  la  Moliere,  and  so  forth,  a  custom  which  has  continued 
to  this  day.  This  la,  which  appears  so  contemptuous,  was  not  the 
exclusive  property  of  actresses  or  of  women  of  the  people.  Madame  de 
Sevigne  and  Saint-Simon  employ  it  for  ladies  of  the  fashionable  world, 
but,  by  preference,  for  those  of  medium  virtue :  la  Beauvais,  la 
Montespan,  &c. ;  and  eighteenth  century  writers  frequently  make  use 
of  it  in  referring  to  the  mistresses  of  Louis  XV. :  la  Chiteauroux,  la 
Pompadour,  la  Du  Barry.  Nowadays,  however,  it  is  no  longer  a  term 
of  contempt ;  "  it  has  become  a  particle  which  confers  nobility  and 
immortality  on  great  singers  and  tragediennes,  if  the  race  is  not  extinct." 
— M.  J.  Noury,  La  Champmesle,  p.  94. 

8 


1 8   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

[Boileau]  told  me,"  writes  Brossette,  "  that  Moliere  had 
been  in  love  with  the  actress  Bejart,  whose  daughter  he 
espoused," — or  that  many  modern  writers  should  have 
taken  the  same  view.  M.  Larroumet,  we  may  observe, 
is  of  the  contrary  opinion,  but,  though  generally  so 
correct,  he  appears  in  this  instance  to  be  arguing  from 
a  false  premise.  He  assumes  that  the  Comte  de  Modene 
returned  to  Paris  in  the  summer  of  1643  and  resumed 
his  former  relations  with  Madeleine,  which  fact,  he  says, 
makes  a  liaison  between  her  and  Moliere  altogether 
improbable.  But  the  count's  biographer,  M.  Chardon, 
asserts  that  at  the  time  when  M.  Larroumet  believes 
Modene  to  have  been  in  Paris,  he  was  residing  on  his 
estates  in  the  Venaissin,  and  that  he  did  not  visit  the 
capital  until  the  autumn  of  1646,  that  is  to  say,  after  the 
Illustre  Theatre  had  left  for  the  provinces.  Shortly  after 
this,  the  count  set  out  with  the  Due  de  Guise  for  Italy, 
where,  as  we  have  mentioned,  he  remained  until  1650^ 

But,  after  all,  the  nature  of  Moliere's  relations  with 
Madeleine  Bejart  subsequent  to  the  birth  of  Armande 
is  of  very  secondary  importance ;  it  is  on  the  degree  of 
intimacy  existing  between  them  prior  to  that  event  that 
the  whole  question  hinges.  That  they  were  at  that  time 
anything  more  than  friends — possibly  only  acquaint- 
ances— there  is  not  a  shred  of  evidence  to  prove  ;  for  the 
rumours  we  have  spoken  of  relate  mainly  to  the  early 
years  of  the  Illustre  Theatre.  Indeed,  so  little  is  known 
about  their  movements  previous  to  the  establishment  of 
that  institution  that  it  is  impossible  to  say  with  any 
degree  of  certainty  whether  their  paths  in  life  lay  to- 
gether or  far  apart  at  a  particular  date,  much  less  to 

1   M.   Henri  Chardon,  Nouveaux  documents  sur  la  vie  de   Moliere : 
M.  de  Modene,  ses  deuxfemmes,  et  Madeleine  Bejart. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  19 

hazard  an  opinion  upon  so  very  delicate  a  matter  as  the 
one  under  discussion. 

M.  Larroumet  says  that  from  July  1638,  when  her 
little  daughter,  Franchise,  was  born,  until  June  1643, 
when  the  Illustre  Theatre  was  founded,  we  lose  all  trace 
of  Madeleine.  This  is  not  quite  correct,  as  on  Novem- 
ber 30,  1639,  she  appears  as  marraine  at  the  baptism  of 
her  little  sister,  B6nigne  Madeleine,  in  the  parish  of  Saint- 
Sauveur,  and,  six  months  later  (June  5,  1640),  we  find 
her  discharging  the  same  duty  to  a  child  of  one  Robert 
de  la  Voypierre,  described  as  a  valet-de-chambre>  at  the 
Church  of  Saint-Sulpice.1  After  that,  it  is  true,  nothing 
more  is  heard  of  her  for  three  years.  Now,  where  was 
she  during  these  three  years  ?  M.  Chardon  thinks  that 
she  was  in  Paris  until  the  early  summer  of  1641,  and 
during  the  remainder  of  the  time — that  is  to  say,  for  the 
eighteen  months  or  more  preceding  Armande's  birth — 
in  the  provinces,  with  a  company  of  strolling  players ; 
and  this  is  the  reason  he  gives  for  his  supposition. 

In  May  1641,  a  friend  of  the  Comte  de  Modene, 
Jean  Baptiste  de  1'Hermite,  brother  of  Tristan  de 
1'Hermite,  author  of  the  tragedy  of  Mariamne,  together 
with  his  wife  and  a  servant  of  the  count,  were^arrested 
and  imprisoned  in  the  Chateau  of  Vincennes,  apparently 
on  a  charge  of  treasonable  correspondence  with  Modene. 
Thereupon,  Madeleine,  apprehensive  of  sharing  their  fate, 
her  connection  with  Modene  being  well  known,  leaves 
Paris  and  joins  a  company  in  the  provinces,  and  does  not 
show  her  face  in  the  capital  again  until  Richelieu  and 
Louis  XIII.  are  both  dead,  and  all  danger  for  the  Count 
and  his  friends  removed.8 

1  Jal,  Dictionnaire  critique  de  Biographic  et  a"  Histoire:  Article  "Bejart." 

2  M.   Henri  Chardon,  Nouvcaux  documents  sur  la  vie  de  Molierc ; 
M.  de  Modene,  ses  deux  femmes,  et  Madeleine  Bejart, 


20      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

As  for  Moliere,  he  is  commonly  believed  to  have 
spent  the  year  1642  in  Paris,  with  the  exception  of  the 
months  of  May,  June,  and  July,  when  M.  Loiseleur  is  of 
opinion  that  he  replaced  his  father  as  tapissier  valet-de- 
chambre  to  the  King,  who  was  then  returning  by  easy 
stages  from  the  conquest  of  Roussillon. 

Now,  if  these  two  theories  are  correct,  as  they  pro- 
bably are,  it  is  obvious  that,  whoever  was  the  father  of 
Madeleine  Bejart's  child,  supposing  her  to  have  been 
the  mother  of  Armande,  which  few  now  will  be  found  to 
maintain,  it  could  not  have  been  Moliere,  unless  Made- 
leine was  a  member  of  a  troupe  of  strolling  players, 
which  performed  several  times  before  the  Court  at 
Montfrin,  during  its  stay  there  in  the  latter  part  of 
June,  a  contingency  so  remote  as  to  be  hardly  worth 
taking  into  account.  With  which  observations,  we 
hasten  to  take  leave  of  this  most  unpleasant  subject, 
and  begin  our  history  of  Armande  Bejart. 

When  the  Illustre  Theatre  quitted  Paris,  in  the 
spring  of  1646,  Marie  Herve  and  her  little  daughter 
accompanied  it.  It  does  not  appear  probable,  however, 
as  some  writers  have  supposed,  that  Armande's  early 
years  were  passed  on  the  high  roads.  From  what  we 
know  of  her  accomplishments,  she  must  have  received  a 
far  superior  education  to  that  which  a  little  Bohemian 
could  have  obtained.  According  to  one  account,  she 
lived  for  some  years  in  Languedoc,  "  with  a  lady  of  dis- 
tinguished rank  in  that  province,"  and  did  not  return  to 
her  family  until  1653,  when  the  company,  relatively 
more  stable,  had  made  Lyons  its  headquarters.  Thence- 
forward Armande's  education  was  carried  on  under  the 
immediate  supervision  of  Moliere  himself,  who,  as  time 


THE   WIFE   OF  MOLI&RE  21 

went  on,  began  to  take  something  more  than  a  friendly 
interest  in  the  progress  of  his  pupil,  and  ended  by  falling 
passionately  in  love  with  her. 

Nearly  all  the  biographers  of  Moliere  and  Armande 
agree  that  Madeleine  Bejart  was  much  occupied  by  this 
marriage,  though  they  differ  widely  in  the  part  they 
assign  to  her,  some  asserting  that  she  laboured  strenu- 
ously to  prevent  it,  others  that  she  did  her  utmost  to 
bring  it  about.  According  to  Grimarest,  one  of  the 
oldest  of  the  poet's  biographers — who  believed  Madeleine 
to  have  been  Moliere's  mistress,  and  that  she  was, 
moreover,  the  mother  of  Armande,  though  he  does  not 
go  so  far  as  to  attribute  the  girl's  paternity  to  Moliere — 
Madeleine  behaved  en  femme  furieuse,  threatened  to  ruin 
him,  her  daughter,  and  herself,  if  he  persisted  in  his 
intention,  and  that  in  consequence  the  lovers  were  com- 
pelled to  contract  a  secret  marriage. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  anonymous  author  of  La 
Fameuse  Comedienne,  who  wrote  nearer  the  event,  gives 
a  wholly  different  version  of  the  affair.  According  to 
him — or  more  probably  her — it  is  Madeleine  who  pre- 
pared and  concluded  the  marriage,  by  a  series  of  patient 
and  tortuous  intrigues,  her  object  being  to  recover, 
through  Armande,  the  influence  over  Moliere  of  which 
Mile,  de  Brie  had  deprived  her.  "  She  did  not  fail  to 
exaggerate  to  Moliere  the  satisfaction  he  would  derive 
from  educating  for  himself  a  child  whose  heart  he  was 
sure  of  possessing,  and  whose  disposition  was  known  to 
him,  and  assured  him  that  it  was  only  at  that  innocent 
age  that  one  could  hope  to  meet  with  that  sincerity 
which  was  found  but  rarely  among  persons  who  had  seen 
the  great  world.  These  arguments  she  often  repeated 
to  Moliere,  at  the  same  time,  adroitly  calling  his  atten- 


22       QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

tion  to  that  natural  delight  which  her  daughter  showed 
whenever  she  observed  him  enter  the  room,  and  her 
blind  obedience  to  his  wishes.  In  a  word,  she  conducted 
the  affair  so  skilfully  that  he  decided  that  he  could  not 
do  better  than  marry  the  girl." 

These  two  accounts,  remarks  M.  Larroumet,  would 
appear,  at  first  sight,  to  be  equally  unworthy  of  belief, 
since  they  are  in  direct  contradiction  to  one  another. 
But  when  we  come  to  examine  them  more  closely,  we 
shall  find  that,  though  the  worthlessness  of  Grimarest's 
version  is  clearly  demonstrated  by  the  fact  that  Moliere's 
marriage  had  nothing  secret  about  it,  being  indeed  cele- 
brated publicly  in  the  presence  of  his  family  and 
Armande's,  that  of  the  author  of  La  Fameuse  Comedienne 
has  a  basis  of  truth.  Madeleine  did,  no  doubt,  play  an 
important  part  in  bringing  about  the  marriage,  but  the 
reason  which  prompted  her  to  do  so  was  very  different 
from  that  stated  by  the  author.  Sincerely  attached  to 
both  her  sister  and  Moliere,  she  honestly  believed  that 
a  marriage  between  them  would  be  to  their  common 
advantage,  securing  to  the  one  an  excellent  settlement 
in  life,  and  to  the  other  a  means  of  escape  from  the 
gallantries  which  served  but  to  add  fresh  annoyances  to 
the  cares  imposed  upon  him  by  his  triple  role  of  play- 
wright, actor,  and  manager.  She  committed  a  grievous 
mistake,  it  is  true ;  but  that  she  was  animated  by  per- 
fectly disinterested  motives,  and  did  everything  in  her 
power  to  make  the  marriage  a  happy  one,  there  can  be 
no  question.1 

With  the  exception  of  the  drawing  reproduced  in 
this  volume,  there  does  not  appear  to  be  any  portrait  of 
Armande,  painted  or  engraved,  the  authenticity  of  which 

1  M.  Larrouraet,  La  Comedie  Je  Mo/iere,  105  et  seq. 


THE  WIFE  OF   MOLlfiRE  23 

is  beyond  dispute.  But,  as  some  atonement  for  this, 
several  excellent  pen-portraits  have  come  down  to  us. 
The  most  interesting  of  these  is,  of  course,  the  one  traced 
by  Moliere's  own  hand  in  that  exquisite  little  scene 
between  Cleonte  and  Covielle  in  the  third  act  of  the 
Bourgeois  gentilhomme,  where  Armande  plays  the  part  of 
the  charming  Lucile.  Cleonte,  incensed  by  Lucile's 
seeming  indifference,  determines  to  break  with  her,  and 
calls  upon  the  valet  to  "  assist  him  in  his  resentment  and 
sustain  his  resolution  against  every  remnant  of  affection 
that  may  yet  plead  for  her.  '  Say,  I  entreat  you,  all 
the  harm  that  you  can  of  her.  Make  of  her  person  a 
picture  that  shall  render  her  contemptible  in  my  sight, 
and,  to  disgust  me  with  her,  point  out  all  the  faults  that 
you  can  see  in  her.' ' 

Smarting  under  the  rebuff  just  administered  to  him 
by  Lucile's  waiting-woman,  Nicole,  who  follows  the 
example  of  her  mistress,  Covielle  readily  obeys,  and 
proceeds  to  draw  a  most  unflattering  portrait  of  the 
young  lady.  But  no  sooner  does  the  valet  point  out 
some  fault  in  Lucile  than  his  love-lorn  master  straight- 
way transforms  it  into  a  trait  of  beauty,  with  an  ever- 
increasing  anger  and  impatience. 

Covielle. — "  To  begin  with,  her  eyes  are  small." 

C Monte. — "  That  is  true  ;  her  eyes  are  small,  but  then 
they  are  full  of  fire — the  most  brilliant,  the  most 
piercing  in  the  world,  the  tenderest  that  one  can 
possibly  see." 

Covielle. — "  She  has  a  large  mouth." 

Cttonte. — "  Yes  ;  but  one  finds  there  charms  which 
one  does  not  find  in  other  mouths ;  and  that  mouth, 
when  one  beholds  it,  inspires  desire ;  it  is  the  most 
attractive,  the  most  adorable  in  the  world." 


24      QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Covielle. — "As  for  her  figure,  she  is  not  tall." 

Cttontc. — "  No  ;  but  she  is  supple  and  well-propor- 
tioned." 

Covielle. — "She  affects  a  carelessness  in  her  speech 
and  deportment." 

Cttonte. — "  It  is  true,  but  there  is  grace  in  all ;  and 
her  manners  are  engaging  and  have  a  nameless  charm 
which  insinuates  itself  into  our  hearts." 

Covielle. — "  As  to  her  wit " 

Cttonte. — "Ah!  she  has  that,  Covielle;  the  finest 
and  most  delicate  kind." 

Covielle. — "  Her  conversation " 

Cleonte. — "  Her  conversation  is  charming." 

Covielle. — "  It  is  always  serious." 

Cleonte. — "  Would  you  have  unrestrained  liveliness 
and  boisterous  gaiety  ?  Is  there  anything  more  annoy- 
ing than  women  who  laugh  at  every  word  that  is 
spoken  ? " 

Covielle. — "  But,  after  all,  she  is  as  capricious  as  any 
person  you  can  find." 

CUonte. — "  Yes,  she  is  capricious  ;  there  I  agree  with 
you  ;  but  everything  is  becoming  to,  and  must  be  borne 
with  from,  the  fair." 

The  fidelity  of  the  aforegoing  portrait  is  confirmed 
by  other  contemporary  evidence.  Examined  in  detail,  it 
would  appear  that  Armande's  features  were  far  from 
perfect,  but  that  the  ensemble  was  fascinating  to  a  very 
remarkable  degree.  Mile.  Poisson,  in  a  Lettre  sur 
la  vie  et  les  ceuvres  de  Moliere  et  les  comediens  de  son 
temps,  which  she  contributed  to  the  Mercure  of  1740, 
describes  her  as  "  of  middle  height,"  with  "  very  small 
eyes,"  and  "  a  large  flat  mouth  " ;  but  adds  that  she  had 
"  an  engaging  air,"  and  "  performed  every  action  with 


ARMANDE   BEJART 

From  an  etching  by  J.  HANRIOT,  after  a  contemporary  drawing  in  the  collection 
of  M.  HENRY  HOUSSAYE,  of  the  Academic  Fran9aise 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLI^RE  25 

grace."  The  elder  Grandval  is  in  accord  with  Mile. 
Poisson  :  "  Without  being  beautiful,  she  was  piquant  and 
capable  of  inspiring  a  grande  -passion"  While  a  bitter 
enemy  of  Armande,  the  anonymous  author  of  La  Fameuse 
Comedienne,  while  denying  her  "  aucun  trait  de  beaute"  is 
fain  to  admit  that  her  appearance  and  manners  rendered 
her  very  amiable  in  the  opinion  of  many  people,  and  that 
she  was  "  very  affecting  when  she  wished  to  please." 

That  Armande  should  have  triumphed  so  completely 
over  physical  deficiencies  was  probably  due,  to  some  ex- 
tent, to  the  perfection  of  her  toilettes.  "  No  one,"  the 
brothers  Parfaict  tell  us,  in  their  Histoire  du  Thedtre 
Franfais,  "  knew  better  than  she  how  to  enhance  the 
beauty  of  her  face  by  the  arrangement  of  her  coiffure,  or 
of  her  figure  by  the  fashion  of  her  costume."  And 
Mile.  Poisson  records  that  she  "  showed  most  remark- 
able taste  and  invariably  opposed  to  the  mode  of  the 
time."  She  seems  indeed  to  have  had  some  claim  to 
be  considered  the  arbitrix  of  feminine  taste  in  dress,  for 
the  Mercure  galant  of  1673  ascribes  to  her  the  credit  of 
a  radical  reform  in  ladies'  toilettes,  nothing  less  than  the 
substitution  of  gowns,  "  tout  unis  sur  le  corps,  de  la  maniere 
que  la  taille  par  ait  plus  belle"  for  the  majestic  but  some- 
what heavy  costume  hitherto  in  vogue,  which  concealed 
beneath  its  too  ample  folds  the  graceful  lines  of  the 
figure. 

If  Armande,  as  a  woman,  was  an  object  of  admiration 
to  her  contemporaries,  as  an  actress,  she  aroused  in  them 
something  very  like  enthusiasm.  It  would  indeed  have 
been  a  matter  for  surprise  had  it  been  otherwise,  since 
she  enjoyed  advantages  which  fall  to  the  lot  of  very  few. 
She  came  of  a  family  which  had  already  contributed 


26      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

several  finished  performers  to  the  French  stage,  and 
"  had  in  her  blood  the  passion  and  instinct  of  the 
theatre."  With  her  charm  of  manner  and  exquisite  taste 
in  dress,  she  combined  many  accomplishments  :  "  she  had 
a  very  pretty  voice,  sang  with  great  taste  in  both  French 
and  Italian,  and  danced  ravishingly."  She  had  received 
a  long  and  careful  training  from  one  who  was  perhaps 
an  even  better  teacher  than  he  was  an  actor,  and  who  was 
as  ambitious  for  her  success  as  for  his  own.  And,  finally, 
nearly  all  her  parts — certainly  all  her  more  important 
parts — were  written  by  Moliere  with  the  express  object 
of  enabling  her  to  display  her  abilities  to  the  best 
advantage. 

Lacking  the  dignity  and  strength  required  to  give 
adequate  expression  to  the  greater  passions,  she  wisely 
refrained  from  attempting  any  important  roles  in  tragedy, 
and  in  Racine's  Alexandre  and  the  Attila  of  Corneille  we 
find  her  allotted  only  minor  parts.  But  at  the  Palais- 
Royal  comedy  was,  of  course,  the  staple  fare,  and  in 
"  les  roles  de  femmes  coquettes  et  satiriques"  which  accorded 
so  well  with  her  own  temperament,  and  also  in  those  of 
inge'nues,  Armande  had  no  superior  in  her  day  and  pro- 
bably very  few  since.  Her  acting  is  said  to  have  been 
characterised  by  great  judgment,  while  her  by-play  was 
remarkably  effective.  "  If  she  but  retouches  her  hair, 
or  rearranges  her  ribbons  or  her  jewellery,  these  little 
fashions  conceal  a  satire  judicious  and  natural,  and  throw 
ridicule  upon  the  women  she  wishes  to  represent." 
Moreover,  she  had  the  rare  gift  of  being  able  to  change 
at  will  the  character  of  her  voice,  and  "had  a  different 
tone  for  every  part  she  undertook." 

Moliere's  wise  reluctance  to  allow  his  young  wife 
to  challenge  the  verdict  of  the  public  until  he  had  done 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLI&RE  27 

everything  in  his  power  to  ensure  her  success,  delayed 
Armande's  first  appearance  on  the  stage  for  fifteen 
months  after  her  marriage,  when  she  made  her  debut  as 
Elise  in  the  Critique  de  FEcole  des  femmes  (June  I,  1663), 
a  reply  to  the  attacks  of  Donneau  de  Vise  and  other 
critics  upon  the  play  produced  at  the  Palais-Royal  the 
previous  December.  The  part  allotted  to  her,  which  is 
that  of  a  self-possessed  young  woman,  with  a  good  deal 
of  shrewd  common-sense,  a  turn  for  irony  of  a  rather 
caustic  brand,  and  not  too  much  consideration  for  the 
feelings  of  others,  suited  her  admirably — perhaps  rather 
more  so  than  poor  Moliere  at  that  time  imagined — and 
secured  her  a  somewhat  similar  role  in  the  delightful 
Impromptu  de  Versailles,  played  before  the  Court  in  the 
following  October,  where  she  figures  in  the  cast  as  a 
"  satirical  wit."  She  did  not  play  in  the  Manage  force 
(January  29,  1664),  as,  ten  days  earlier,  she  had  borne 
Moliere  a  son,  to  whom,  as  we  have  mentioned,  Louis  XIV. 
and  Henrietta  of  England  stood  sponsors ;  but  in  the 
following  spring  we  find  her  in  the  first  of  her  long  list 
of  important  roles. 

At  the  beginning  of  May  1664,  Louis  XIV.  enter- 
tained the  Queen-mother,  Anne  of  Austria,  and  his  own 
consort,  Maria  Theresa,  with  a  brilliant  and  sumptuous 
f£te,  or  rather  succession  of  f6tes,  at  Versailles,  which  was 
then,  of  course,  still  only  the  little  country-house  built 
by  Louis  XIII.,  occupying  to-day  the  bottom  of  the  Cour 
de  Marbre.  The  f£tes,  which  were  denominated  Les 
Plaisirs  de  rile  enchantee,  as  the  plan  adopted  was 
suggested  by  the  sixth  and  seventh  cantos  of  Ariosto's 
Orlando  Furioso,  which  describe  the  sojourn  of  Rogero 
(impersonated  by  the  King)  in  the  isle  and  palace  of  the 
enchantress  Alcena,  began  on  the  yth  of  the  month  and 


28       QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

lasted  a  week ;  stately  processions,  tilting,  displays  of 
fireworks,  balls,  and  magnificent  banquets  alternating 
with  theatrical  performances.  On  the  8th,  Moliere's 
troupe  gave  a  comedy  ballet,  called  the  Princesse  d1  Elide, 
composed  for  the  occasion,  by  their  chief,  at  the  special 
request  of  the  King,  and  the  role  of  the  princess  was 
taken  by  Armande.  The  play,  the  subject  of  which  was 
borrowed  from  the  Spanish  dramatist  Moreto's  El  Desden 
con  el  Desden  (Scorn  for  Scorn),  is  the  story  of  a  fair 
princess,  who  until  then  had  professed  to  despise  love 
and  had  driven  her  innumerable  suitors  to  despair,  but 
who  suddenly  finds  herself  wounded  to  the  heart  by  the 
skilfully  feigned  indifference  to  her  charms  shown  by 
Euryale,  Prince  of  Ithaca,  who  ultimately  succeeds  in 
winning  her  hand.  Though  far  from  being  one  of 
Moliere's  happiest  efforts,  as  it  was  hastily  strung 
together — the  first  act  and  the  commencement  of  the 
first  scene  of  the  second  are  in  verse,  and  the  rest  in 
prose  —  while  the  author's  natural  flow  of  wit  and 
humour  was  checked  by  the  necessity  of  accommodat- 
ing himself  to  courtly  conventions,  it  met  with  a  very 
favourable  reception,  and,  moreover,  served  to  establish 
Armande's  reputation  as  an  actress.  This  was,  no  doubt, 
Moliere's  intention,  as  the  whole  play  appears  to  have 
been  conceived  expressly  to  bring  into  relief  the  young 
lady's  various  accomplishments — her  taste  in  dress,  her 
charming  voice,  and  her  graceful  dancing  —  and  the 
enamoured  Euryale  declaims  in  her  honour  a  portrait 
of  the  most  flattering  description  :  "  She  is,  in  truth, 
adorable  at  all  times ;  but  at  that  moment  she  was  more 
so  than  ever,  and  new  charms  redoubled  the  splendour 
of  her  beauty.  Never  was  her  face  adorned  with  more 
lovely  colours ;  never  were  her  eyes  armed  with  swifter 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLI^RE  29 

or  more  piercing  shafts.  The  sweetness  of  her  voice 
showed  itself  in  the  perfectly  charming  air  which  she 
deigned  to  sing ;  and  the  marvellous  tones  she  uttered 
penetrated  to  the  very  depth  of  my  soul  and  held  all  my 
senses  in  a  rapture  from  which  they  were  powerless  to 
escape.  She  next  showed  a  disposition  altogether  divine ; 
her  lovely  feet  on  the  enamel  of  the  soft  turf  danced 
delightful  steps,  which  carried  me  quite  beyond  myself 
and  bound  me  by  irresistible  bonds  to  the  easy  and 
accurate  movements  with  which  her  whole  body  followed 
those  harmonious  motions." 

On  the  three  concluding  days  of  the  fetes,  the 
Fdcheux,  the  first  three  acts  of  Tartuffe^  and  the  Mariage 
ford  were  in  turn  represented.  It  is  uncertain  what 
parts  were  allotted  Armande  in  the  first  and  third  of 
these  plays,  but  in  the  much  discussed  Tartuffe^  now 
played  for  the  first  time,  she  again  filled  the  leading 
feminine  role.  How  she  fared  on  this  occasion  we  have 
unfortunately  no  information ;  but  when,  in  February 
1669,  the  interdict  under  which  Tartuffe  had  so  long 
lain  was  at  length  withdrawn  and  the  piece  produced  at 
the  Palais-Royal,  the  rhyming  chronicle  of  Robinet  speaks 
in  eulogistic  terms  of  her  performance  of  Elmire. 

In  the  meanwhile,  she  had  successfully  created  other 
important  parts :  Lucinde  in  the  Medecin  malgre  /#/', 
Angelique  in  George  Dandin,  and  Elise  in  r Avare^  and,  on 
June  4,  1666,  the  greatest  of  all  her  triumphs — the  role 
of  Celimene  in  the  famous  comedy  of  the  Misanthrope. 

"  Celimene,"  says  M.  Larroumet,  "  is  the  type  of 
woman  the  most  original  and  the  most  complete  which 
the  genius  of  Moliere  has  evolved.  Eternal  temptation 
of  actresses,  those  who  have  attempted  it  may  be  called 
legion,  those  who  have  succeeded  in  making  themselves 


3o      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

mistresses  of  it  form  a  select  group,  admired,  envied. 
Such  an  actress  of  genius  as  Rachel  failed  here  miserably, 
and  a  true  Celimene,  like  Mile.  Mars,  is  sure  of  trans- 
mitting her  name  to  posterity.  One  has  noted,  however, 
the  tones  and  gestures  of  the  great  interpreters  of  the 
part ;  tradition  preserves  them,  and  they  point  out  the 
way.  But  an  intelligent  pupil  will  readily  make  herself 
acquainted  with  all  that  can  be  learned ;  if  she  does  not 
evolve  from  her  own  resources  the  sentiment  of  the 
character,  she  will  only  swell  the  alarming  number  of 
vain  attempts  which  theatrical  history  records.  Celimene 
is  twenty  years  of  age,  and  her  experience  is  that  of  a 
woman  of  forty.  Coquettish  and  feline  with  Alceste, 
frivolous  and  back-biting  with  the  little  marquises,  cruelly 
ironical  with  Arsinoe,  in  each  act,  in  each  scene,  she 
shows  herself  under  a  different  aspect.  Contemporary, 
or  very  nearly  so,  of  Mesdames  de  Chatillon,  de  Luynes, 
de  Monaco,  de  Soubise,  and  the  nieces  of  Mazarin,  she 
ought  to  awaken  a  vague  memory  of  these  great  names ; 
she  is  the  exquisite  and  rare  product  of  an  aristocratic 
civilisation  in  the  full  splendour  of  its  development,  and 
often  she  speaks  a  language  of  almost  plebeian  candour 
and  acerbity.  In  the  salon  where  she  reigns,  she  ought 
to  convey  the .  idea  of  perfect  ease  and  supreme  dis- 
tinction ;  and  in  the  denouement  she  submits  to  a  cruel 
humiliation  without  the  possibility  of  revenge ;  she 
makes  her  exit  vanquished  at  all  points,  and,  even  then> 
she  ought  to  lose  nothing  of  her  haughty  bearing  and  her 
tranquil  smile." 1 

It  will  thus  be  readily  understood  that  an  actress 
who  could  be  trusted  to  create  such  a  part  must  have 
truly  been  a  great  artist,  and  Armande  secured  a  brilliant 

1  La  Comedie  de  Molicre,  p.  134. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLI^RE  31 

triumph.  Her  performance  was  "  a  charm "  and  "  an 
ecstasy,"  Robinet  tells  us;  and  though  Robinet  was  in 
the  habit  of  dealing  somewhat  freely  in  such  expressions, 
we  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  on  this  occasion  he 
faithfully  reflects  the  opinion  of  the  audience. 

But,  after  all,  we  can  hardly  wonder  at  the  young 
actress's  success,  since  she  had  only  to  be  perfectly  natural 
to  realise  the  author's  whole  idea  of  his  heroine.  For 
what  is  Celimene  but  a  finished  portrait  of  Armande 
herself?  Celimene  is  "  la  grande  coquette  par  excellence" 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  admirers  wherever  she  goes. 
Armande,  unhappily  for  Moliere's  peace  of  mind,  seems 
to  have  enjoyed  very  much  the  same  reputation.  Celi- 
mene depends  for  her  fascination  not  so  much  on  beauty 
of  face  or  form  as  on  her  expression,  her  smile,  her 
manners,  her  conversation ;  "  elle  a  fart  de  me  plaire" 
says  the  infatuated  Alceste.  Armande  possessed  the 
same  kind  of  attractions,  and  was  "  very  affecting  when 
she  wished  to  please."  Celimene  is  haughty  and  im- 
perious. "  It  is  my  wish ;  it  is  my  wish,"  she  cries 
when  Alceste  hesitates  to  comply  with  her  demands. 
*'  Armande,"  says  a  contemporary,  "  could  not  brook 
contradiction,  and  pretended  that  a  lover  ought  to  be 
as  submissive  as  a  slave."  In  fact,  so  perfect  is  the 
resemblance  that  even  if  the  circumstances,  of  which  we 
shall  presently  speak,  did  not  preclude  all  reasonable 
doubt  about  the  matter,  few  would  be  found  to  deny 
that  the  heroine  of  the  Misanthrope  was  drawn  from  life. 

Among  Armande's  other  roles  may  be  mentioned 
the  capricious  and  charming  Lucile  of  the  Bourgeois 
gentilhomme,  in  which  Moliere  drew  the  well-known 
portrait  of  his  wife  which  we  have  already  cited ;  the 
title-part  in  the  famous  "  tragedy-ballet "  of  Psyche,  one 


32       QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

of  the  most  remarkable  instances  of  collaboration  in 
dramatic  history,1  in  which  she  appeared  in  a  different 
costume  in  each  of  its  five  acts — a  very  unusual  extrava- 
gance in  those  days — and  is  described  by  the  enthusi- 
astic Robinet  as  "  marvellous  "  and  "  playing  divinely  "  ; 
Henriette  in  the  Fcmmes  savantes,  "  the  model  of  an 
honest,  sensible,  and  well-brought-up  young  lady ; "  and 
finally,  Angelique  in  Moliere's  swan-song,  the  Malade 
imaginatre,  perhaps,  next  to  Celimene,  her  most  finished 
impersonation. 

But  great  as  were  the  dramatic  talents  of  Armande 
Bejart,  they  count  for  comparatively  little  in  the 
curiosity  which  her  name  arouses.  It  is  her  moral 
character,  her  private  life,  her  relations  with  her  famous 
husband,  which  have  exercised  the  minds  of  the  bio- 
graphers of  Moliere  for  upwards  of  two  centuries.  On 
these  matters  even  more  ink  has  been  expended  than 
on  the  vexed  question  of  her  birth,  and  with  far  less 
satisfactory  results.  To  the  great  majority  of  writers 
Armande  was  an  unworthy  wife,  who  repaid  the  kind- 
ness and  affection  lavished  upon  her  by  the  great  man 
whose  name  she  bore  with  ingratitude  and  contumely ; 
while  there  are  not  wanting  those  who  go  so  far  as  to 
accuse  her  of  the  grossest  infidelity,  and  to  assert  that 
her  misconduct  was  in  some  measure  responsible  for  the 
dramatist's  untimely  death.  When,  however,  we  come 
to  sift  the  evidence  against  her,  we  shall  find  that  these 
extreme  views  are  based  on  very  insufficient  or  very 

1  Moliere  was  responsible  for  the  plot,  the  prologue,  the  first  act, 
and  the  first  scenes  of  the  second  and  third  acts  ;  Quinault  contributed 
all  the  lyrical  matter,  with  the  exception  of  the  Italian  plainte,  which, 
like  the  muiic,  was  by  Lulli ;  Pierre  Corneille  wrote  the  rest. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLI&RE  33 

suspicious  testimony,  and  that  one  thing  only  has  been 
clearly  established,  namely,  that  she  rendered  Moliere's 
later  years  very  unhappy.  But  what  was  the  true  cause 
of  his  unhappiness,  whether  occasioned  by  actual  mis- 
conduct on  the  part  of  Armande,  or  merely  by  an  ever 
present  dread  that  such  must  be  the  inevitable  termina- 
tion of  one  or  other  of  the  very  imprudent  flirtations  in 
which  she  appears  to  have  been  continually  indulging,  is 
very  difficult,  nay,  well-nigh  impossible,  to  determine. 

It  has  always  been  a  favourite  practice  with  bio- 
graphers of  Moliere  and  historians  of  the  French  theatre 
to  affect  to  discover  more  or  less  direct  allusions  to  the 
dramatist's  relations  with  his  wife  in  several  of  his  plays  : 
the  Ecole  des  femmes,  the  Impromptu  de  Versailles^  the 
Manage  force,  George  Dandin,  and,  of  course,  the  Misan- 
thrope. That  this  is  true  of  the  last-named  play  cannot, 
we  think,  be  disputed  ;  but  in  regard  to  the  others,  we 
are  inclined  to  believe  that  the  significance  of  the  passages 
and  episodes  on  which  their  contention  rests  have  been 
a  good  deal  exaggerated. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  Ecole  des  femmes,  the  first  in 
chronological  order.  Here,  as  in  the  Ecole  des  maris, 
Moliere  turns  to  the  ethics  of  marriage  for  his  materials. 
Arnolphe,  a  middle-aged  bachelor,  disgusted  by  the  lack 
of  fidelity  among  the  married  women  he  sees  around 
him,  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  the  only  safeguard 
of  a  wife's  honour  is  extreme  ignorance.  No  young 
woman  should  know  anything  beyond  her  household 
and  religious  duties ;  her  reading  is  to  be  confined  to  the 
Bible  and  the  Maxims  of  Marriage  ;  her  only  objects  in 
life  are  to  be  the  salvation  of  her  soul  and  the  comfort 
and  happiness  of  her  husband.  In  order  to  put  his 
theory  to  the  test,  he  adopts  a  little  girl  called  Agnes, 


34      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

and  has  her  carefully  brought  up  in  the  most  complete 
seclusion,  with  the  intention  of  making  her  his  wife 
when  she  shall  have  reached  a  suitable  age.  But, 
unfortunately  for  him — for  he  falls  genuinely  in  love 
with  his  ward — the  damsel's  very  simplicity  proves  his 
undoing ;  she  bestows  her  affections  upon  a  young 
gallant,  Horace  by  name,  and  poor  Arnolphe  is  left 
lamenting  the  downfall  of  his  hopes. 

We  have  outlined  this  plot  of  the  play,  which  is 
doubtless  familiar  to  many,  as  several  writers  have 
assumed  that  Moliere  has  depicted  himself  in  the  role 
of  Arnolphe  and  Armande  in  that  of  Agnes ;  but 
beyond  the  fact  that  both  Moliere  and  his  hero  them- 
selves supervised  the  education  of  their  intended  wives, 
there  does  not  seem  to  be  the  slightest  ground  for  such 
a  supposition.  In  the  first  place,  Moliere  espoused  the 
woman  of  his  choice  ;  while  Arnolphe  sees  his  cherished 
scheme  come  to  nothing,  through  the  appearance  on 
the  scene  of  the  youthful  Horace.  In  the  second,  the 
brilliant  and  witty  Armande  bears  as  little  resemblance 
to  the  unsophisticated  Agnes  as  does  her  liberal-minded 
husband  to  the  tyrannical  guardian.  And,  lastly,  to 
ask  us  to  believe  that  only  ten  months  after  his  marriage, 
with  the  glamour  of  the  honeymoon  still  upon  him, 
Moliere  could  have  intended  an  unsympathetic  character 
like  Agnes  to  represent  his  wife,  is  to  make  too  great 
a  call  upon  our  credulity. 

In  the  Impromptu  de  Versailles  a  good  deal  has  been 
made  of  the  little  quarrel  between  the  author  and  his 
wife,  which  the  former  introduces  at  the  beginning  of 
the  play.  The  company  is  supposed  to  be  rehearsing 
a  new  comedy,  commanded  by  the  King  at  two  hours' 
notice,  and  to  be  causing  its  chief  no  little  trouble. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  35 

Mademoiselle  Moliere. — "  Shall  I  tell  you  what  it  is  ? 
You  ought  to  have  written  a  play  which  you  could  have 
acted  all  alone." 

Moliere. — "  Be  silent,  wife  ;  you  are  a  fool." 

Mademoiselle  Moliere. — "  Thank  you,  my  lord  and 
husband  ;  that  just  shows  what  it  is  to  be  married,  and 
how  strangely  wedlock  alters  people.  You  would  not 
have  said  that  eighteen  months  ago." 

Moliere. — "  Pray  be  silent." 

Mademoiselle  Moliere. — "  It  is  an  odd  thing  that  a 
trifling  ceremony  should  be  capable  of  depriving  us  of 
all  our  good  qualities,  and  that  a  husband  and  a  lover 
should  regard  the  same  person  with  such  different  eyes." 

Moliere. — "  What  loquacity  !  " 

Mademoiselle  Moliere. — "  'Faith !  if  I  were  to  write 
a  play,  it  would  be  upon  that  subject.  I  would  justify 
women  in  many  things  of  which  they  are  accused,  and 
I  would  make  husbands  afraid  of  the  contrast  between 
their  abrupt  manners  and  the  courtesy  of  lovers." 

Here,  we  are  told  by  certain  critics,  the  inference 
is  unmistakable ;  Moliere  clearly  foresees  the  fate  which 
awaits  him.  In  our  opinion,  they  are  wrong.  In  the 
Impromptu  de  Versailles,  Moliere  and  his  wife  do  not, 
as  in  an  ordinary  play,  represent  fictitious  characters ; 
they  appear  under  their  own  names.  In  these  circum- 
stances, it  is  surely  inconceivable  that  the  dramatist  should 
have  introduced  this  dialogue,  if  he  had  for  one  moment 
imagined  it  applicable  to  his  own  affairs  !  The  very 
fact  that  he  was  so  ready  to  jest  upon  such  a  subject 
seems  to  us  a  conclusive  proof  that  up  to  that  time, 
at  least,  Armande's  conduct  had  given  him  but  scant 
cause  for  uneasiness. 

The  Manage  force  and  George  Dandin,  the  former 


36       QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

produced  early  in  the  year  1664,  when  the  difference  of 
age  and  of  character  between  Moliere  and  his  wife  was 
no  doubt  beginning  to  produce  its  fatal  consequences, 
and  the  latter  in  the  summer  of  1667,  after  their 
separation,  of  which  we  shall  speak  in  due  course,  had 
actually  taken  place,  contain  more  direct  allusions  to 
their  author's  manage.  Sganarelle,  like  Moliere,  had 
believed  himself  "  le  plus  content  des  hommes"  only  to  be 
roughly  disillusioned  when  the  carefully  brought  up 
Dorimene  frankly  avows  her  passion  for  "  toutes  les  choses 
de  plaisir" — play,  visiting,  assemblies,  entertainments, 
and  so  forth — at  the  same  time  expressing  a  hope  that 
he  does  not  intend  to  be  one  of  those  inconvenient 
husbands  who  desire  their  wives  to  live  "  comme  des  loup- 
garous"  since  solitude  drives  her  to  despair,  but  that 
they  may  dwell  together  as  a  pair  "  qui  savent  leur  monde." 
Angelique,  in  her  turn,  complains  to  George  Dandin  of 
the  tyranny  exercised  by  husbands  "who  wish  their 
wives  to  be  dead  to  all  amusements,  and  to  live  only 
for  them."  She  has  no  desire,  she  tells  him,  to  die 
young,  but  "  intends  to  enjoy,  under  his  good  pleasure, 
some  of  the  glad  days  that  youth  has  to  offer  her,  to 
take  advantage  of  the  sweet  liberties  that  the  age  permits 
her,  to  see  a  little  of  the  beau  monde^  and  to  taste  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  her  praises  sung." 

All  this  is  certainly  reminiscent  of  Armande,  who, 
according  to  Grimarest,  was  no  sooner  married  than 
she  "believed  herself  a  duchess,"  affected  a  coquettish 
manner  with  the  idle  gallants  who  flocked  to  pay  court 
to  her,  and  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  warnings  of  her 
husband,  whose  lessons  appeared  to  her  "  too  severe  for 
a  young  person  who,  besides,  had  nothing  wherewith  to 
reproach  herself."  But  the  resemblance  in  the  situations 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  37 

goes  no  further.  If  Dorimene,  in  her  craving  for 
"  toutes  les  choses  de  plaisir"  and  Angelique,  in  her  im- 
perious temper  and  cold  irony,  bear  some  relation  to 
Armande,  the  foolish  and  cowardly  Sganarelle,  who 
allows  himself  to  be  cudgelled  by  Dorimene's  brother, 
Lycidas,  into  a  marriage  which  he  knows  must  bring 
him  unhappiness,  has  nothing,  save  his  age,  in  common 
with  Moliere  ;  while  the  aspiring  farmer,  George  Dandin, 
marrying  not  for  love,  but  for  social  position,  and  de- 
servedly punished  for  his  snobbishness,  is  as  far  removed 
from  his  creator  as  Tartuffe  or  Monsieur  Jourdain. 

When  we  come  to  the  Misanthrope,  the  similarity 
between  fiction  and  reality  is  too  striking  to  admit  of 
any  doubt  as  to  the  author's  intentions.  It  is  true  that 
a  distinguished  English  critic1  professes  to  see  in  this 
play,  as  in  Don  Garde  de  Navarre  —  Moliere's  one 
failure,  produced  the  year  before  his  marriage,  and 
withdrawn  after  a  run  of  five  nights — the  outcome  of 
the  actor-dramatist's  "  desire  of  indulging  his  humour 
of  seriousness  and  a  determination  to  example  his  elocu- 
tionary theories  in  verse  that,  without  being  actually 
tragic  and  heroic,  should  have  something  in  it  of  the 
tragic  and  heroic  quality."  But,  though  the  large 
number  of  verses  from  Don  Garde  which  Moliere  has 
incorporated  with  his  role  of  Alceste  would  seem  to  lend 
some  confirmation  to  this  theory,  the  fact  remains  that 
writers  are  practically  unanimous  in  regarding  the  Mis- 
anthrope as,  primarily,  a  pathetic  autobiography  of  its 
author  under  the  cloak  of  fiction.  "  This  Celimene,  so 
frivolous  and  so  charming,  so  dangerous  and  so  seduc- 
tive, this  incorrigible  coquette,  who  does  not  understand 
what  a  noble  heart  she  is  wounding  even  unto  death : 

1  Mr.  W.  E.  Henley  in  the  Cornhill  Magazine,  xli.  445. 


38       QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

is  not  this  Armande  Bejart,  embellished  by  all  the  love 
and  all  the  genius  of  Moliere?  And  Alceste ;  who  is 
he?  At  the  first  representations  people  believed  that 
they  recognised  the  Due  de  Montausier,  and  the  Due  de 
Montausier  remarked,  with  good  reason  :  '  I  thank  you  ; 
it  is  a  great  honour.'  But  we,  for  our  part,  recognise 
Moliere.  This  misanthrope  is  something  more  than  an 
honourable  gentleman  at  odds  with  the  world.  He  is 
a  great  genius  misunderstood,  who  endures  and  waits ; 
he  is  a  passionate  sage,  an  honest  man  with  a  great  and 
excellent  heart.'' 1 

In  the  Misanthrope,  Moliere  has  given  to  C£limene  all 
the  coquetry,  the  egoism,  and  the  caustic  wit  which 
belonged  to  Armande ;  to  his  own  role  all  the  weak- 
ness of  a  high-minded  man  struggling  vainly  against  his 
passion  for  an  unworthy  object.  "  The  love  I  bear  for 
her,"  says  Alceste — 

"  Ne  ferme  point  mes  yeux  aux  deTauts  qu'on  lui  trouve  ; 
Et  je  suis,  quelque  ardeur  qu'elle  m'ait  pu  dormer, 
Le  premier  i  les  voirs,  comme  a  les  condamner. 
Mais,  avec  tout  cela,  quoi  que  je  puis  faire, 
Je  confesse  mon  foible  ;  elle  a  1'art  de  me  plaire  ; 
J'ai  beau  voir  ses  defauts,  et  j'ai  beau  Ten  blamer, 
En  depit  qu'on  en  ait,  elle  se  fait  aimer  ; 
Sa  grace  est  la  plus  forte,  et,  sans  doute,  ma  flamme 
De  ces  vices  du  temps  pourra  purger  son  ame." 

There  are  moments  indeed  in  the  play  when  it  almost 
ceases  to  belong  to  the  realm  of  fiction.  The  scene, 
for  instance,  in  the  fourth  act,  when  Alceste,  holding 
in  his  hand  the  proof  of  Celimene's  perfidy,  the  letter 
written  by  her  to  his  rival,  Oronte,  calls  upon  her  "  to 
justify  herself  at  least  of  a  crime  that  overwhelms  him," 

1  Gaboriau's  Les  comediennes  adorees,  269. 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLIERE  39 

and  to  do  her  best  to  appear  faithful,  while  he,  on  his 
side,  will  do  his  best  to  believe  her  such ;  and  Celimene 
tartly  refuses — 

"  Allez,  vous  etes  fou,  dans  vos  transports  jaloux, 
Et  ne  meVitez  pas  1'amour  qu'on  a  pour  vous. 

Allez,  de  tels  soupcons  meritent  ma  colere, 
Et  vous  ne  valez  pas  que  Ton  vous  considere  : 
Je  suis  sotte,  et  veux  mal  a  ma  simplicit£, 
De  conserver,  encor,  pour  vous,  quelque  bonte" ; 
Je  devrois,  autre  part,  attacher  mon  estime 
Et  vous  faire  un  sujet  de  plainte  legitime," 

may  well  have  had  its  parallel  in  their  own  lives.  And 
few,  again,  can  doubt  the  sincerity  with  which  the  lover 
must  have  uttered  the  lines, — 

"  Je  fais  tout  mon  possible 
A  rompre  de  ce  coeur  1'attachement  terrible  ; 
Mais  mes  plus  grands  efforts  n'ont  rien  fait  jusqu'ici, 
Et  c'est  pour  mes  peches  que  je  vous  aime  ainsi." 

"We  might  well  say  without  exaggeration  of  this 
C£limene,"  remarks  August  Wilhelm  von  Schlegel,* 
"that  there  is  not  a  single  good  point  in  her  whole 
composition."  This  may  be  so ;  but,  as  M.  Larroumet 
is  careful  to  point  out,  there  is  really  nothing  in  the 
Misanthrope  which  gives  us  the  right  to  assume  that 
Armande  was  anything  worse  than  an  incorrigible 
coquette.  "  Celimene  is  impeccable ;  she  has  neither 
heart  nor  feeling."  Nor  do  the  remainder  of  Moliere's 
plays  furnish  any  fresh  proof  against  Armande ;  they, 
on  the  contrary,  strengthen  the  impression  that,  while 
he  suffered  much  from  his  wife's  character,  he  never 

1  "  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and  Literature." 

2  La  Comedic  de  Moliere,  p.  1 46. 


40      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

believed  her  to  have  been  guilty  of  anything  which  might 
affect  his  honour. 

This  impression  seems  to  have  been  that  of  the 
poet's  contemporaries.  Moliere  had,  as  we  know,  many 
enemies — unscrupulous  enemies,  who  did  not  hesitate  to 
launch  against  him  the  most  hideous  of  accusations. 
We  can  hardly  doubt  that  had  there  been  any  reason- 
able ground  for  believing  Armande  guilty  of  something 
more  than  coquetry,  the  Montfleurys,  Le  Boulanger  de 
Chalussay  and  the  rest,  would  have  been  only  too  ready 
to  avail  themselves  of  such  an  opportunity  of  humiliating 
the  man  whom  they  so  bitterly  hated.  Yet  though,  like 
all  the  rest  of  the  world,  they  were  aware  of  Moliere's 
jealous  nature,  and  made  this  weakness  the  object  of 
their  unsparing  ridicule,  none  of  them  went  so  far  as 
to  accuse  him  of  being  that  which  he  appears  to  have 
been  in  incessant  dread  of  becoming.  At  most,  their 
works  contain  only  vague  hints  and  insinuations,  to 
which  little  or  no  attention  seems  to  have  been  paid ; 
and  it  is  probable  that  Armande's  name  would  have  gone 
down  to  posterity  without  any  very  serious  stain  upon 
it,  had  she  not  chanced  to  be  made  the  victim  of  one  of 
the  most  audacious  and  malignant  libels  ever  penned. 

Among  the  swarm  of  scurrilous  brochures,  ficti- 
tious histories,  and  stupid  romances  in  the  French  lan- 
guage which  issued  from  the  foreign  press  during  the 
decade  which  followed  the  Protestant  emigration  of 
1685,  was  a  little  book,  or  rather  pamphlet,  written  for 
the  delectation  of  those  persons  who  are  always  ready 
to  welcome  anything  calculated  to  gratify  their  curiosity 
about  the  private  affairs  of  stage  celebrities.  This  book, 
published  anonymously  at  Frankfort,  in  1688,  by  one 
Rottenberg,  a  bookseller  who  made  a  speciality  of  such 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  41 

sensational  works,1  bore  the  title  of  La  Fameuse  Coml- 
dienne^  ou  Histoire  de  la  Guerin,  Guerin  being  the  name 
of  Armande  Bejart's  second  husband,  whom  she  married 
in  1677.  Although  the  demand  for  it  was  considerable, 
and  five  editions  were  printed  within  ten  years  of  the 
date  of  its  publication,  the  charges  against  Armande 
which  it  contained  do  not  appear  to  have  been  taken 
very  seriously,  except  among  the  class  of  readers  for 
whom  it  was  written,  until,  in  1697,  it  occurred  to 
Bayle,  who  had  a  weakness  for  piquant  anecdotes  about 
notable  persons,  to  include  certain  passages  in  his  famous 
Dictionary,  since  which  few  of  the  biographers  of  Moliere 
have  failed  to  borrow  more  or  less  freely  from  its  pages, 
with  most  unfortunate  results  to  the  reputation  of  the 
dramatist's  wife. 

The  authorship  of  the  Fameuse  Comedienne  remains  a 
mystery  to  this  day,  though  contemporary  gossip,  or 
historians  in  search  of  some  new  sensation,  have  attri- 

1  The  first  edition,  now  Tery  rare,  a  copy  of  which  is  in  the  possession 
of  the  British  Museum,  contains  a  "  foreword  "  from  the  bookseller  to  the 
reader,  which  is  so  curious  that  we  make  no  apology  for  transcribing  it : 

'*  I  know  neither  the  author  of  this  history,  nor  the  hand  from 
whence  it  came  to  me.  A  courier  who,  in  passing  through  this  town, 
purchased  some  books  at  my  shop,  made  me  a  present  of  it,  and  assured 
me  that  it  is  true  in  every  detail.  I  believe  it  to  be  incumbent  upon  me 
to  give  this  present  to  the  public,  in  order  that  it  may  share  the  principal 
adventures  of  this  famous  actress,  as  celebrated  by  her  coquetry  as  by  the 
reputation  of  the  late  Moliere,  her  first  husband. 

"The  same  courier  assured  me  that  the  author  of  this  history  has 
included  therein  only  the  chief  adventures  which  happened  to  this  actress, 
having  passed  over  an  infinity  of  other  little  amorous  incidents,  as  trifles 
unworthy  of  his  book  or  his  heroine.  I  am  persuaded  that  there  is  not 
an  actress  in  France  whose  career  would  not  afford  sufficient  material  for 
a  similar  history.  But,  while  we  await  their  appearance,  I  give  you  this 
one,  precisely  as  it  came  into  my  hands,  without  adding  or  subtracting 
anything.  May  it  afford  you  diversion  !  Adieu." 


42   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

buted  it  successively  to  a  number  of  persons :  La 
Fontaine,  Racine,  Chapelle,  Blot,  the  chansonnier  of  the 
Fronde,  Rosimont,  an  actor  of  the  Rue  Guenegaud, 
Mile.  Guyot,  a  member  of  the  same  company,  and 
Mile.  Boudin,  a  provincial  actress,  who  would  appear  to 
have  been  at  one  time  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  Armande. 
With  regard  to  the  first  five  of  these  suppositions,  we  will 
merely  remark  that  neither  La  Fontaine,  Racine,  nor 
Chapelle  were  capable  of  committing  such  an  infamy  ; 
that  Blot  had  been  in  his  grave  more  than  thirty  years  at 
the  time  of  the  publication  of  the  libel  ascribed  to  him, 
and  that  the  chief  argument  advanced  by  M.  Charles 
Livet,  the  editor  of  the  latest  edition  of  the  Fameuse 
Comedienne,  in  favour  of  Rosimont,  namely,  a  resemblance 
between  the  style  of  the  book  and  a  theological  work 
entitled  La  Vie  des  Saints,  which  he  published  in  1680, 
seems  to  us  too  fanciful  to  merit  any  serious  consideration. 
In  the  cases  of  Mesdemoiselles  Guyot  and  Boudin,  there 
is  again  a  total  absence  of  anything  like  adequate  proof; 
nevertheless,  though  they  are  both  in  all  probability  guilt- 
less, strong  grounds  exist  for  believing  the  book  to  be 
the  work  of  one  of  Armande's  professional  rivals,  as  the 
intimate  acquaintance  with  theatrical  life  which  it  reveals 
precludes  all  doubt  as  to  the  vocation  of  the  writer ; 
while  the  preponderating  place  it  allots  to  women,  the 
manner  in  which  it  speaks  of  men,  the  jealous  hatred 
which  inspires  it,  the  finesse  of  some  of  its  remarks,  its 
style  and  method,  all  denote  a  feminine  hand.1 

Atrocious  libel  though  the  Fameuse  Comedienne  un- 
doubtedly is,  it  is  very  far  from  destitute  of  that  literary 
merit  in  which  even  the  works  of  the  most  obscure  writers 
of  the  great  epoch  of  French  prose  are  seldom  lacking,  and, 

1  M.  Gustave  Larroumet,  La  Comedie  de  Moliere,  p.  149. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  43 

moreover,  contains  not  a  little  interesting  and  authentic 
information  about  the  public  career  of  Moliere  and  his 
wife.  But  that  is  all  that  can  be  said  in  its  favour. 
"  Possessed,"  remarks  M.  Larroumet,  "  by  a  ferocious 
hatred  against  Armande,  hatred  of  the  woman  and  the 
actress,  the  writer  has  only  one  object — to  render  her 
odious.  What  she  knows  of  the  actions  of  her  enemy 
she  perverts  or,  at  any  rate,  exaggerates  ;  what  she  does 
not  know  she  invents.  He  who  wishes  to  injure  a  man 
attributes  to  him  acts  of  indecency  or  cowardice  ;  he  who 
wishes  to  injure  a  woman  gives  her  lovers ;  these  are  the 
surest  means.  Thus  our  author  makes  of  Armande  a 
Messalina,  and  a  Messalina  of  the  baser  sort,  one  who 
sells  her  favours." 

Unfortunately  for  the  object  which  the  libeller  has 
in  view,  she  does  not  content  herself  with  general  charges  ; 
she  makes  formal  accusations,  which  she  endeavours  to 
substantiate,  and  the  book  abounds  in  letters,  conversa- 
tions, details  about  matters  which  could  not  possibly 
have  been  known,  save  to  the  parties  immediately  con- 
cerned, with  the  result  that  her  attack  fails  miserably, 
and  the  judicious  reader  very  speedily  perceives  that 
the  work  is  nothing  but  a  collection  of  scandalous  anec- 
dotes, which,  when  not  controverted  by  positive  facts,  sin 
grievously  against  probability. 

However,  as  all  readers  are  not  judicious,  and  as  the 
book  has  imposed  on  several  historians  of  deservedly  high 
reputation,1  it  may  be  as  well  for  us,  in  the  interests 

1  Among  the  writers  who  accept  wholly,  or  in  part,  the  statements  of 
La  Fameuse  Comedienne  may  be  mentioned  Grimarest,  Taschereau,  M. 
Loiseleur,  and  Gaboriau,  though  the  last-named  writer  ought  not  perhaps 
to  be  taken  very  seriously.  The  article  on  Armande  in  Mr.  Sutherland 
Edwards's  "  Idols  of  the  French  Stage  " — hitherto,  we  believe,  the  only 
attempt  to  give  any  detailed  account  of  the  actress  in  English — is  ad- 
mittedly largely  based  on  the  information  contained  in  this  libel. 


44      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

of  truth,  to  follow  the  example  of  M.  Bazin  and  M. 
Larroumet,  and  devote  some  little  space  to  an  examina- 
tion of  the  charges  which  have  brought  so  much  un- 
merited odium  upon  the  memory  of  Armande  Bejart. 

The  first  lover  attributed  to  Armande  is  the  Abbe  de 
Richelieu,  great-nephew  of  the  famous  cardinal,  a  gentle- 
man of  a  very  gallant  disposition,  with  a  marked  predi- 
lection for  actresses :  "  There  was  no  one  at  the  Court 
who  did  not  endeavour  to  gain  her  favours.  The  Abbe 
de  Richelieu  was  one  of  the  first  who  determined  to  make 
her  his  mistress.  As  he  was  very  liberal,  while  the  young 
lady  was  very  fond  of  expenditure,  the  matter  was  soon 
concluded.  It  was  agreed  that  he  should  give  her  four 
pistoles  (about  forty  francs)  a  day,  without  counting 
clothes  and  entertainments.  The  abbe  did  not  fail  to 
send  her  every  morning,  by  a  page,  the  pledge  of  their 
treaty,  and  to  go  and  visit  her  every  afternoon." 

Now,  as  M.  Larroumet  points  out,  if  this  story  is  to 
be  accepted,  we  must  either  believe  Moliere  to  have  been 
ignorant  of  the  comings  and  goings  of  the  page  and  the 
abbe,  or  that  he  was  aware  of  and  tolerated  them :  two 
suppositions  equally  inadmissible.  Moreover,  if  we 
consult  the  dates,  the  improbability  becomes  an  impossi- 
bility. Armande  was  married  on  February  20,  1662, 
and  on  January  19,  1664,  she  bore  Moliere  a  son.  The 
intrigue  must  then  have  taken  place  between  these  two 
periods — which  is  to  make  her  infidelity  begin  at  a  very 
early  date — since  M.  Bazin  tells  us  that  the  Abbe  de 
Richelieu  left  France  in  March  1664  with  the  expedi- 
tion organised  to  defend  Hungary  against  the  Turks, 
and  died  at  Venice  on  January  9,  1665.  That,  how- 
ever, does  not  prevent  the  Fameuse  Comedienne  from 
making  his  liaison  with  Mile.  Moliere  last  until  the 


THE  WIFE  OF   MOLlfeRE  45 

production  of  the  Princesse  d*  Elide  ;  a  play  which  was 
not  performed  until  May  8,  1664,  some  weeks  after  his 
departure. 

On  to  the  supposed  intrigue  between  Armande  and 
the  abbe,  the  anonymous  author  next  proceeds  to  graft 
a  new  and  double  adventure :  "  This  affair  lasted  for 
some  months  without  trouble ;  but  Moliere  having 
written  the  Princesse  d'Elide,  in  which  the  Moliere 
played  the  princess,  which  was  the  first  important  role 
she  had  filled,  because  Mademoiselle  du  Pare  played 
them  all  and  was  the  heroine  of  the  theatre,  she  created 
such  a  sensation  that  Moliere  had  cause  to  repent  of 
having  exhibited  her  in  the  midst  of  the  brilliant  young 
men  of  the  Court.  For  scarcely  had  she  arrived  at 
Chambord,  where  the  King  gave  this  entertainment, 
than  she  became  infatuated  with  the  Comte  de  Guiche,1 
while  the  Comte  de  Lauzun 2  became  infatuated  with  her. 
The  latter  spared  no  effort  to  obtain  her  good  graces,  but 
the  Moliere,  who  had  quite  lost  her  head  over  her  hero, 
would  listen  to  no  proposition,  and  contented  herself 
with  visiting  Du  Pare  and  weeping  over  the  indifference 
of  the  Comte  de  Guiche.  The  Comte  de  Lauzun, 
however,  did  not  abandon  hope,  experience  having 
taught  him  that  nothing  could  resist  him.  He  knew, 
moreover,  that  the  Comte  de  Guiche  was  one  who  set 
but  little  store  by  woman's  love,  for  which  reason  he 

1  Armand  de  Gramont,  Comte  de  Guiche,  brother  of  Philibert  de 
Gramont,  the  hero  of  Count  Hamilton's  Memoirs. 

2  Antoine   Nompar  de  Caumont,  Comte,  and    afterwards  Due,  de 
Lauzun,  the  beloved  of  la  Grande  Mademoiselle,  who  so  nearly  succeeded 
in  securing  the  hand  and  vast  possessions  of  that  princess,  and  who,  in 
November   1671,  was  imprisoned  at  Pignerol,  where  he  remained   ten 
years.     For  an  account  of  his  adventures,  see  the  author's  "Madame 
de  Montespan"  (London,  Harpers:  New  York,  Scribners :    1903). 


46       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

doubted  not  that  his  indifference  would  end  by  repulsing 
the  Moliere,  and  that  his  own  star  would  then  produce 
in  her  heart  what  it  had  produced  in  those  of  all  the 
women  whom  he  had  sought  to  please.  He  was  not 
deceived,  for  the  Moliere,  irritated  by  the  coldness  of 
the  Comte  de  Guiche,  threw  herself  into  the  arms  of 
the  Comte  de  Lauzun,  as  if  desirous  of  seeking  pro- 
tection against  further  suffering  at  the  hands  of  a  man 
who  failed  to  appreciate  her." 

Here  again  we  have  an  impossibility  and  an  impro- 
bability. In  May  1664  the  Comte  de  Guiche  was  at 
Warsaw,  having  been  exiled  the  previous  year,  on 
account  of  his  complicity  in  the  "  Spanish  letter  "  plot 
against  Mile,  de  la  Valliere,  and,  therefore,  could  not 
have  been  making  love — or  being  made  love  to — at 
Versailles.  As  for  Lauzun,  no  mention  of  him  is  to 
be  found  among  the  persons  who  assisted  at  the  f£tes 
where  the  Princesse  d*  Elide  was  performed,  while  even 
if  he  were  present,  it  is  very  unlikely  that  he  had  any 
attention  to  spare  for  Mile.  Moliere,  as  he  was  at  this 
time  desperately  in  love  with  the  Princesse  de  Monaco, 
who  afterwards  jilted  him  for  the  King  himself.  The 
fact  is  that  the  malicious  chronicler,  having  decided  to 
give  her  victim  some  grands  seigneurs  as  lovers,  not 
unnaturally  selected  those  most  celebrated  for  their 
gallantry,  in  the  belief  that,  among  their  numerous 
mistresses,  one  more  would  pass  without  difficulty ;  but 
she  had  little  acquaintance  with  the  Court,  and  her 
ignorance  has  betrayed  her. 

Although  the  Abb6  de  Richelieu  had,  as  we  have 
mentioned,  departed  for  Hungary,  the  Fameuse  Comedienne 
retains  him  on  the  stage  and  makes  him  play  a  parti- 
cularly odious  r61e.  He  intercepts  a  very  tender  letter 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  47 

written  by  Armande  to  the  Comte  de  Guiche,  and, 
furious  at  the  lady's  duplicity,  "  does  not  amuse  him- 
self by  uttering  reproaches,  which  never  serve  any  good 
purpose ;  but,  congratulating  himself  on  having  en- 
gaged her  only  by  the  day,  resolves  to  break  with 
her  from  that  moment,  which  he  does,  after  calling 
Moliere' s  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  great  care 
he  took  to  please  the  public  left  him  no  time  for 
examining  the  conduct  of  his  own  wife,  and  that  while 
he  worked  to  divert  every  one,  every  one  worked 
to  divert  her." 

A  bitter  matrimonial  quarrel  naturally  follows  this 
confidence.  Armande  sheds  floods  of  tears,  confesses 
her  tendresse  for  Guiche,  but  protests  that  she  is  guilty 
in  intention  only,  carefully  refrains  from  saying  a  word 
about  Lauzun,  entreats  her  deluded  husband's  pardon, 
which  she  obtains  with  very  little  difficulty,  and  profits 
by  his  credulity  to  continue  her  intrigues  "  with  more 
Mat  than  ever."  Wearying  of  sentimental  or  quasi- 
sentimental  attachments,  she  resolves  to  profit  by  her 
charms,  at  the  same  time  making  a  great  pretence  of 
chastity  and  "  causing  to  sigh  for  her  an  infinity  of  fools 
who  imagine  her  to  be  of  unexampled  virtue."  How- 
ever, in  due  course,  Moliere  is  advised  of  her  proceed- 
ings, and  another  painful  scene  takes  place  between 
husband  and  wife.  Moliere  falls  into  a  violent  passion 
and  threatens  to  have  her  shut  up  in  a  convent. 
Armande  weeps,  swoons  away,  and  appears  to  be  on 
the  point  of  expiring ;  but  eventually  revives  and, 
instead  of  entreating  pardon,  as  on  the  previous 
occasion,  takes  a  high  tone,  accuses  her  husband  of 
keeping  up  his  intimacy  with  Mile,  de  Brie,  who,  by 
a  singular  arrangement,  still  continued  to  reside  under 


48       QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

the  same  roof  as  her  former  lover,1  and  also  with 
Madeleine  Bejart,  declares  that  she  "  no  longer  has  the 
courage  to  live  with  him,  that  she  would  rather  die, 
and  that  everything  between  them  must  come  to  an 
end."  In  vain  her  family,  that  of  Moliere,  and  their 
common  friends  endeavour  to  appease  her.  "  She  con- 
ceives henceforth  a  terrible  aversion  for  her  husband, 
she  treats  him  with  the  utmost  contempt ;  finally,  she 
carries  matters  to  such  an  extremity  that  Moliere, 
beginning  to  perceive  her  evil  propensities,  consents 
to  the  rupture  which,  since  their  quarrel,  she  has  never 
ceased  to  demand ;  and,  accordingly,  without  any  decree 
of  the  Parliament,  they  agree  that  they  will  no  longer 
live  together." 

Here,  at  last,  the  author  of  the  Fameuse  Comedienne 
is  on  sure  ground ;  for  we  know,  on  unimpeachable 
authority,  that  an  "  amicable "  separation  did  actually 
take  place  between  Moliere  and  his  wife.  Its  precise 
date  is  a  matter  of  some  uncertainty,  but  it  must  have 
been  subsequent  to  the  month  of  April  1665,  when 
Armande  presented  her  husband  with  a  second  child, 
a  daughter,  to  whom  Madeleine  Bejart  and  the  Comte 
de  Modene  stood  sponsors.  "If,"  says  M.  Larroumet, 
"we  admit  that  the  Misanthrope  reflects  something  of 
the  poet's  state  of  mind  and  of  his  feelings  towards 

1  When  Moliere  married,  he  went  to  live  in  the  Rue  de  Richelieu. 
In  the  following  year,  however,  he  removed  to  the  Bejarts'  house  situated 
at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Saint-Thomas  du  Louvre  and  the  Place  du 
Palais-Royal.  It  was  a  very  large  house,  capable  of  accommodating 
two  or  three  families,  and  Mile,  de  Brie  had  for  some  time  occupied  part 
of  it.  Moli£re's  object  in  residing  there  seems  to  have  been  to  allow  his 
young  wife  to  enjoy  the  society  of  her  family,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  committed  a  very  grave  mistake  in  residing  under  the  same  roof 
as  a  woman  with  whom  he  had  formerly  had  a  liaison. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  49 

his  wife,  the  separation  perhaps  belongs  to  the  moment 
when  this  play  was  produced,  in  June  1666,  or  later, 
about  the  month  of  August,  after  the  Medecin  malgre 
lui."  M.  Larroumet  sees  in  the  circumstance  that  the 
leading  feminine  parts  in  the  three  plays  which  followed 
the  Medecin  malgre  lui :  Melicerte,  Le  Sicilien,  and  Amphi- 
tryon, were  allotted  to  Mile,  de  Brie,  and  not  to  Armande 
— a  distribution  which  must  have  been  peculiarly  galling 
to  the  latter,  who  had  so  long  filled  the  most  important 
or  the  most  flattering  roles — a  natural  effect  of  her 
husband's  resentment. 

From  the  moment  of  their  rupture  until  their  recon- 
ciliation, some  five  years  later,  husband  and  wife  met 
no  more,  except  at  the  theatre.  Armande  remained  in 
Paris,  with  her  mother  and  sister ;  while  Moliere  passed 
most  of  his  rare  leisure  at  a  little  country-house  which 
he  rented  at  Auteuil,  then,  as  now,  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  suburbs  of  Paris.  One  day,  according  to  the 
Fameuse  Comedienne,  he  was  sitting  in  his  garden,  musing 
sadly  upon  his  lost  happiness,  when  his  friend  Chapelle 
broke  in  upon  his  solitude,  and,  finding  him  in  a  more 
than  usually  despondent  mood,  began  to  reproach  him 
with  betraying  a  weakness  which  he  had  so  often  turned 
to  ridicule  upon  the  stage. 

"  For  my  part,"  said  he,  "  if  I  were  unfortunate 
enough  to  find  myself  in  like  case  to  you,  and  that  the 
person  I  loved  granted  favours  to  others,  I  should  feel 
such  a  contempt  for  her  as  would  infallibly  cure  me  of 
my  passion.  Moreover,  there  is  a  satisfaction  open  to 
you,  which  would  be  denied  you  if  she  were  only  your 
mistress  ;  and  that  vengeance  which  commonly  takes  the 
place  of  love  in  an  outraged  heart  can  compensate  you  for 
all  the  mortifications  your  wife  occasions  you,  since  you 

D 


5° 

can  at  once  have  her  shut  up  in  a  convent.  This  would, 
indeed,  be  a  sure  means  of  placing  your  mind  at  rest." 

Moliere,  who  had  listened  quietly  to  his  friend,  here 
interrupted  him  to  inquire  whether  he  himself  had  never 
loved. 

"Yes,"  replied  Chapelle,  "I  have  been  in  love  as 
a  man  of  sense  ought  to  be,  but  I  should  never  have 
found  any  difficulty  in  following  what  honour  prescribed; 
and  I  blush  to  find  you  in  such  a  state  of  indecision  in 
regard  to  this  matter." 

"  I  see  well,"  rejoined  Moliere,  "  that  you  have  never 
truly  loved.  You  take  the  semblance  of  love  for  love 
itself.  I  might  give  you  many  examples  which  would 
demonstrate  to  you  the  strength  of  this  passion  ;  but 
I  will  merely  give  you  a  faithful  account  of  my  own 
trouble,  that  you  may  understand  how  little  we  are 
masters  of  ourselves  when  once  it  has  acquired  dominion 
over  us.  As  for  the  consummate  knowledge  of  the 
human  heart  which  you  say  the  portraits  I  am  con- 
stantly offering  to  the  public  prove  me  to  possess,  I  will 
acknowledge  that  I  have  endeavoured  to  understand  its 
weakness.  But,  if  my  science  has  taught  me  that  danger 
should  be  avoided,  my  experience  convinces  me  but  too 
thoroughly  that  to  escape  it  is  impossible.  I  judge  daily 
by  my  own  case. 

"  I  am  by  nature  of  an  excessively  tender  disposition, 
and  all  my  efforts  have  never  enabled  me  to  overcome 
my  inclinations  towards  love.  I  sought  to  render  myself 
happy,  that  is  to  say,  so  far  as  might  be  with  a  sensitive 
heart.  I  was  convinced  that  few  women  are  deserving  of 
sincere  affection ;  that  interest,  ambition,  and  vanity  are 
at  the  root  of  all  their  intrigues.  I  thought,  however, 
to  secure  my  happiness  by  the  innocence  of  my  choice. 


THE  WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  51 

I  took  my  wife,  so  to  speak,  from  the  cradle.  I 
educated  her  with  the  care  which  has  given  rise  to  the 
rumours  which  have  doubtless  reached  your  ears.  I  had 
persuaded  myself  that  I  could  inspire  her  by  habit  with 
sentiments  that  time  alone  could  destroy,  and  I  neglected 
nothing  whereby  this  end  could  be  attained.  As  she 
was  still  young  when  I  married  her,  I  was  unaware  of 
her  evil  propensities,  and  deemed  myself  a  little  less 
unfortunate  than  the  majority  of  those  who  contract 
such  engagements.  Thus  marriage  did  not  lessen  my 
affection ;  but  she  treated  me  with  such  indifference 
that  I  began  to  perceive  that  all  my  precautions  had 
been  unavailing,  and  that  her  feelings  towards  me  were 
very  far  removed  from  what  I  desired  for  my  happiness. 
I  reproached  myself  with  a  sensitiveness  which  seemed 
ridiculous  in  a  husband,  ascribing  to  her  disposition  that 
which  was  really  due  to  her  want  of  affection  for  me. 
But  I  had  but  too  many  opportunities  of  perceiving  my 
error ;  and  the  mad  passion  which  she  contracted  soon 
afterwards  for  the  Comte  de  Guiche  occasioned  too 
much  commotion  to  leave  me  even  this  appearance  of 
tranquillity.  I  spared  no  endeavour,  so  soon  as  I  knew 
the  truth,  to  conquer  myself,  finding  it  impossible  to 
change  her.  I  employed  all  the  strength  of  mind  that 
I  could  command.  I  summoned  to  my  aid  everything 
that  could  help  to  console  me.  I  considered  her  as  a 
person  whose  sole  merit  had  lain  in  her  innocence,  and 
whose  unfaithfulness  robbed  her  of  all  her  charms.  I 
resolved  henceforth  to  live  with  her  as  an  honourable 
man  whose  wife  is  a  coquette,  and  who  is  well  persuaded 
that,  whatever  may  be  said,  his  reputation  is  not  affected 
by  the  misconduct  of  his  spouse.  But  I  had  the  morti- 
fication to  discover  that  a  woman  without  great  beauty, 


52       QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

who  owed  what  little  intelligence  she  possessed  to  the 
education  which  I  had  given  her,  could,  in  an  instant, 
destroy  all  my  philosophy.  Her  presence  made  me 
forget  all  my  resolutions  ;  the  first  words  she  said  in  her 
defence  left  me  so  convinced  that  my  suspicions  were 
ill-founded  that  I  asked  pardon  of  her  for  having  been 
so  credulous. 

"  However,  my  kindness  effected  no  change  in  her, 
and,  in  the  end,  I  determined  to  live  with  her  as  if  she 
were  not  my  wife  ;  but  if  you  knew  what  I  suffer  you 
would  pity  me.  My  passion  has  reached  such  a  point  as 
to  cause  me  to  sympathise  with  her  ;  and  when  I  reflect 
upon  the  impossibility  of  suppressing  what  I  feel  for  her, 
I  tell  myself,  at  the  same  time,  that  she  has  perhaps  a 
similar  difficulty  in  overcoming  her  inclination  towards 
coquetry,  and  I  find  myself  more  disposed  to  pity  than 
to  blame  her. 

"  No  doubt  you  will  tell  me  that  one  must  be  a  poet 
to  love  in  this  manner,  but,  for  my  part,  I  hold  that 
there  is  only  one  kind  of  love,  and  that  those  who  have 
not  felt  such  tenderness  have  never  truly  loved.  Every- 
thing in  this  world  is  associated  in  my  mind  with  her. 
So  entirely  arc  my  thoughts  occupied  by  her  that  in  her 
absence  nothing  can  give  me  pleasure.  When  I  behold 
her,  an  emotion,  transports  which  may  be  felt  but  not 
expressed,  deprive  me  of  all  power  of  reflection.  I 
have  no  longer  eyes  for  her  faults,  but  see  only  her 
lovable  qualities.  Is  not  this  the  last  extremity  of  folly  ? 
And  do  you  not  marvel  that  all  my  reason  serves  only 
to  convince  me  of  my  weakness  without  giving  me  the 
strength  to  master  it  ? " 

Quite  a  number  of  writers,  including  several  who  are 
inclined  to  place  but  little  confidence  in  the  rest  of  the 


THE   WIFE  OF   MOLlfeRE  53 

Fameuse  Comedienne,  pronounce  unhesitatingly  for  the 
genuineness  of  the  above  conversation.  M.  Edouard 
Fournier  thinks  that  a  letter  from  Moliere  to  Chapelle 
has  been  worked  into  the  text,1  while  Mr.  Gegg 
Markheim,  in  his  very  interesting  preface  to  the 
Clarendon  Press  edition  of  the  Misanthrope,  is  of  opinion 
that  a  conversation  between  the  two  poets  was  repeated 
by  Chapelle,  "  either  thoughtlessly  or  to  clear  his  friend 
from  certain  slanders,"  and  reached  the  ears  of  the 
author.  Mr.  Markheim  adduces  two  circumstances  as 
proofs  of  the  genuineness  of  the  Auteuil  confession  : 
first,  that  the  substance  of  it  is  confirmed  by  a  similar 
conversation  between  Moliere  and  his  friends,  the 
physician  Rohault,  and  Mignard,  the  celebrated  painter, 
cited  by  Grimarest,  in  his  biography  of  the  dramatist ; 
secondly,  the  very  remarkable  resemblance,  not  only  in 
thought  but  in  language,  between  certain  passages  in  the 
Fameuse  Comedienne  and  the  Misanthrope,  in  which  play 
Moliere  is  generally  believed  to  have,  in  some  measure, 
taken  his  audience  into  his  confidence  in  regard  to  his 
domestic  affairs.  Thus — to  cite  only  one  instance  of 
several  which  Mr.  Markheim  gives — in  the  book  Moliere 
says  :  "  Je  n'ai  plus  d'yeux  pour  ses  defauts,  il  myen 
reste  seulement  pour  ce  quelle  a  d'aimable ; "  while  in 
the  play  Alceste  makes  the  same  confession  in  almost 
the  same  words  : — 

"  J'ai  beau  voir  ses  defauts,  et  j^ai  beau  Ten  blamer, 
En  depit  qu'on  en  ait,  elle  se  fait  aimer." 

Mr.  Markheim's  first  argument  may,  we  think,  be 
dismissed,  as  the  conversation  in  Grimarest  would  appear 
to  be  nothing  more  than  a  not  too  skilful  imitation  of 

1  £  hides  sur  la  vie  et  les  auvres  de  Moliere, 


54      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

that  in  the  Fameuse  Comedienne;  but  the  second  is 
deserving  of  more  attention.  The  similarity  between 
the  several  passages  Mr.  Markheim  cites  is  certainly  too 
striking  to  be  explained  away  on  the  ground  of  mere 
coincidence ;  yet,  so  far  from  proving  his  contention, 
it  makes,  in  our  opinion,  for  a  diametrically  opposite 
conclusion.  Let  us  listen  to  what  M.  Larroumet,  the 
best-informed  and  most  impartial  of  all  the  recent  bio- 
graphers of  Moliere,  has  to  say  upon  the  matter :  "  If 
we  admit  that  the  Fameuse  Comedienne,  in  spite  of  its 
detestable  inspiration,  is  not  the  work  of  a  beginner, 
but  of  an  actress  endowed  with  the  talent  of  a  natural 
style,  the  simplest  course  would  be  to  admit  further  that 
this  fragment  is  as  much  her  work  as  the  rest  of  the 
book.  Trained  to  the  practice  of  the  theatre,  she 
combines  certain  portions  of  her  story  with  as  many 
little  plays.  Here  she  will  have  perceived  the  scene 
to  construct  and  the  pathetic  tirade  to  write.  Is  not  the 
situation  one  to  inspire  and  stimulate  ?  Sustained  then 
by  her  recollections  of  the  Misanthrope,  her  imagination 
stirred  by  the  passionate  complaints  of  Alceste,  her 
hatred  of  Armande  coming  to  her  assistance,  she  has 
been  successful  in  the  scene  and  the  tirade."  l 

In  a  word,  the  whole  Auteuil  episode  is  pure  fiction ; 
yet  fiction  of  such  a  kind — "  one  of  the  choicest  morsels 
of  French  prose  in  its  most  glorious  epoch " — as  may 
well  arouse  a  regret  that  the  writer  did  not  turn  her 
undoubted  talents  to  some  worthier  purpose  than  the 
composition  of  scandalous  libels. 

In  the  isolation  in  which  he  now  found  himself, 
Moliere,  who  was  one  of  those  who  cannot  live  without 

1  La  ComtJle  de  Moliere ,  p.  158. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLI^RE  55 

woman's  affection,  turned  for  comfort  to  Mile,  de  Brie, 
his  former  providence,  who,  it  may  be  mentioned,  had 
in  the  Misanthrope  played  the  part  of  Eliante,  the  lady 
who  endeavours  to  console  Alceste  for  the  caprices  of 

Celimene.      Her  intervention,   however,   was  of  a  less 

i 

irreproachable  kind  than  Eliante's,  and  she  appears  to 
have  passed  a  considerable  portion  of  her  time  at 
Auteuil.  The  poet's  friends  remonstrated,  pointing 
out  that,  by  renewing  his  intimacy  with  Mile,  de  Brie, 
he  was  giving  his  wife  but  too  much  excuse  for  her 
own  conduct,  and  endeavoured  to  persuade  him  to  break 
with  her.  "Is  it  for  virtue,  beauty,  or  intelligence  that 
you  love  this  woman  ? "  one  of  them  is  said  to  have 
asked  him.  "  You  know  that  Florimont  and  Le  Bar  re 
are  her  lovers,  that  she  is  not  beautiful,  that  she  is  a 
perfect  skeleton,  and  that  she  has  no  common  sense." 
"I  know  all  that,"  replied  Moliere;  "but  I  am  accus- 
tomed to  her  faults ;  for  me  to  accommodate  myself  to 
the  imperfections  of  another  would  be  a  task  beyond 
my  powers ;  I  have  neither  the  time  nor  the  patience." 

But  Moliere  adored  his  wife  :  about  this  all  his  con- 
temporaries are  agreed.  Bold  and  courageous  in  his 
works,  ever  ready  to  castigate  vice  and  ridicule  folly, 
without  troubling  himself  about  the  possibility  of  reprisals, 
he  showed  himself  in  regard  to  her  feeble  and  irresolute 
to  the  last  degree.  His  relations  with  Mile,  de  Brie 
and  other  women  were  after  all  but  passing  caprices ;  his 
passion  for  Armande  was  the  one  serious  love  of  his  life  ; 
a  love  which  survived  indifference,  ingratitude,  it  may 
be  even  infidelity,  and  to  which  he  always  returned,  in 
spite  of  vows  and  good  resolutions. 

Under  these  circumstances,  a  reconciliation  could 
be  only  a  matter  of  time,  and,  thanks  to  the  good  offices 


56       QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

of  their  common  friends,  Chapelle  and  the  Marquis  de 
Jonzac,  it  took  place  towards  the  end  of  the  year  1671. 
The  author  of  the  Fameuse  Comedienne  is  discreetly  silent 
about  this,  fearing  that  it  might  weaken  her  indictment ; 
and,  between  whiles,  places  a  new  intrigue  of  Armande ; 
this  time  with  a  member  of  her  husband's  troupe. 

Some  years  before,  Moliere  had  rescued  a  little  boy 
named  Michel  Baron  from  the  hands  of  some  strolling 
players,  and,  perceiving  in  him  the  makings  of  an 
excellent  actor,  had  attached  him  to  himself  and  trained 
him  for  the  stage.  His  confidence  was  justified,  for 
Baron  became  in  later  years  the  greatest  actor  of  his  time 
and  also  a  successful  dramatist.  Armande,  however,  was 
far  from  sharing  Moliere's  liking  for  the  boy ;  she 
detested  him  for  his  precocity  and  impertinent  airs,  and 
still  more  for  the  influence  which  she  suspected  him  of 
exercising  over  her  husband ;  and  one  day,  during  a 
rehearsal  of  Melicerte,  in  which  Baron  had  been  cast  for 
the  title-part,  carried  her  resentment  to  the  point  of 
dealing  him  a  sound  box  on  the  ear.  In  high  dudgeon, 
Baron  forthwith  took  himself  off  and  joined  a  strolling 
company ;  nor  was  it  until  four  years  later  that,  at  the 
urgent  entreaty  of  Moliere,  he  consented  to  return.  He 
was  then  a  tall  lad  of  seventeen,  exceedingly  handsome, 
full  of  assurance,  and  "  already  in  great  request  among 
the  ladies  of  the  theatre  and  also  among  certain  ladies  of 
the  fashionable  world."  It  did  not  appear  at  first,  says 
the  author  of  the  Fameuse  Comedienne,  that  time  had 
greatly  modified  the  hostility  with  which  Mile.  Moliere 
and  he  regarded  one  another.  But  when  they  appeared 
together  in  Psyche1,  at  the  carnival  of  1671,  Armande  in 
the  title-part,  Baron  as  Love,  there  came  a  change. 
"  The  common  praises  that  they  received  compelled  them 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  57 

to  examine  one  another  more  attentively,  and  even  with 
some  degree  of  pleasure.  He  was  the  first  to  break  the 
silence  by  complimenting  her  on  the  good  fortune  that 
had  befallen  him  in  being  chosen  to  represent  her  lover, 
and  observing  that  he  owed  the  approbation  of  the 
public  to  this  happy  chance,  and  that  it  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  play  the  part  of  a  person  whose  feelings  one 
could  so  well  understand.  The  Moliere  replied  that  the 
praises  bestowed  on  a  man  like  himself  were  the  reward 
of  merit,  and  that  she  had  no  share  in  them ;  but  that 
gallantry  on  the  part  of  one  who  was  said  to  have  so 
many  mistresses  did  not  surprise  her,  and  that  he  must 
be  as  accomplished  an  actor  outside  the  theatre  as  he  was 
on  the  stage. 

"  Baron,  to  whom  these  kind  of  reproaches  were  not 
displeasing,  told  her  that  he  had  indeed  some  habits  that 
one  might  call  bonnes  fortunes,  but  that  he  was  prepared 
to  sacrifice  all  for  her,  and  that  he  would  set  more  value 
on  the  smallest  of  her  favours  than  on  any  which  the 
ladies  who  had  smiled  upon  him  were  able  to  bestow. 
And  he  mentioned  their  names,  with  a  discretion  which 
was  natural  to  him." 

Armande  is,  of  course,  enchanted  by  this  proof  of 
devotion,  and,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  they  resolve  to 
continue  their  respective  roles  off  the  stage. 

We  have  related  this  supposed  intrigue  at  far  greater 
length  than  it  deserves,  since  it  furnishes  a  fair  sample  of 
the  materials  upon  which  M.  Loiseleur  and  other  his- 
torians have  based  their  judgments  of  Armande.  But, 
in  point  of  fact,  it  is  no  more  worthy  of  belief  than 
the  stories  about  Lauzun,  Guiche,  and  the  Abbe  de 
Richelieu.  Although  the  insufferable  coxcomb  whom 
La  Bruyere  has  depicted  under  the  name  of  Roscius,  and 


58       QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

who  is  said  to  have  depicted  himself  in  his  comedy, 
L'Homme  h  bonnes  for -tunes ',  was  not  the  kind  of  person  to 
be  deterred  by  any  honourable  scruples  from  making 
love  to  the  wife  of  his  benefactor,  had  he  been  so 
minded,  we  can  hardly  suppose  that  an  intrigue  between 
Armande  and  a  member  of  his  own  troupe  could  have 
been  carried  on  without  Moliere  becoming  aware  of  it, 
or  that,  when  aware  of  it,  he  would  have  permitted 
Baron  to  retain  his  place  in  the  company.  Moreover, 
apart  from  the  statement  in  the  Fameuse  Comedienne, 
there  is  no  reason  to  believe  that  the  old  antipathy 
between  Armande  and  Baron  ever  ceased  to  exist,  far  less 
that  they  became  lovers.  What  is  certain,  is  that  no 
sooner  was  Moliere  dead  than  Baron  quitted  the  Palais- 
Royal  and  went  over  to  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  at  a 
moment  when  Armande,  become  chief  of  the  troupe,  was 
urgently  in  need  of  his  services.  This,  it  must  be 
admitted,  was  hardly  the  conduct  of  a  friend,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  lover. 

By  the  side  of  these  intrigues,  apocryphal  or  doubtful, 
it  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  record  a  friendship  of  an  alto- 
gether unexceptional  nature.  The  great  Corneille,  in 
spite  of  his  affection  for  his  wife,  Marie  de  Lemperiere, 
whose  hand  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  is  said  to  have  obtained 
for  him,  after  her  father  had  sent  the  poet  about  his 
business,  was  of  a  very  gallant  disposition  and  in  the 
habit  of  offering  incense  at  the  shrine  of  any  goddess  of 
the  theatre  who  was  inclined  to  accept  his  devotion.  At 
Rouen,  in  1758,  he  had,  like  Moliere  at  an  earlier  date, 
fallen  desperately  in  love  with  Mile,  du  Pare,  but  had 
fared  no  better  at  the  hands  of  that  haughty  beauty  than 
the  chief  of  the  Illustre  Theatre.  This  rebuff,  which 
drew  from  the  chagrined  poet  the  well-known  Stances  h 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  59 

une  marquise,  seems  to  have  brought  home  to  Corneille 
the  fact  that  he  was  no  longer  young,  and  to  have  some- 
what damped  his  amorous  ardour.  At  any  rate,  when 
Armande  appeared  upon  the  scene,  he  contented  him- 
self with  offering  her  a  platonic  admiration,  charmingly 
expressed  in  the  third  act  of  PsychL 

Psycht. — "  Can  one  be  jealous  of  the  affection  of 
relatives  ? " 

Amour. — "  I  am  so,  my  Psyche ;  I  am  so  of  all  nature. 
The  sun's  rays  kiss  you  too  often ;  your  tresses  suffer 
too  many  caresses  from  the  wind.  The  moment  it  toys 
with  them,  I  murmur  at  it.  The  very  air  you  breathe 
with  too  much  pleasure  passes  between  your  lips.  And, 
so  soon  as  you  sigh,  I  know  not  what  affrights  me, 
and  makes  me  fear,  among  your  sighs,  some  errant 
ones." 

Not  content  with  this  tribute  to  the  lady's  charms, 
the  old  poet  conceived  the  idea  of  writing  for  Armande 
a  play  in  which  she  might  impersonate  the  heroine,  and 
he  might  portray  himself  in  the  character  of  a  chivalrous 
old  man  in  love  with  her.  He,  accordingly,  composed 
his  PnkhJriti  which,  as  Moliere,  for  some  reason,  could 
not  see  his  way  to  accept  it  for  the  Palais-Royal,  was 
produced  at  the  Marais  on  November  2,  1672.  It  was 
a  poor  play,  the  dramatist  having  failed  to  endow  either 
the  plot  with  interest,  or  the  characters,  apart  from  the 
amorous  old  senator  Martian,  with  any  special  indivi- 
duality ;  and  even  Corneille's  devoted  admirer,  Madame 
de  Sevigne,  was  compelled  to  admit  that  "  Pulchtrie 
was  not  a  success."  Nevertheless  the  terms  in  which 
Martian  speaks  of  the  heroine  were  so  very  flattering 
that  Armande  must  have  regretted  that  circumstances 
had  prevented  her  undertaking  the  latter  part. 


60      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

The  reconciliation  between  Moliere  and  Armande 
was  in  all  likelihood  facilitated  by  a  serious  illness  with 
which  the  latter  was  seized  in  the  early  autumn  of  1671, 
during  the  run  of  PsychL  Under  such  circumstances 
the  most  legitimate  grievances  are  apt  to  be  forgotten, 
and  it  must  have  needed  but  very  little  persuasion  on  the 
part  of  their  common  friends  to  induce  Moliere,  with  all 
his  love  for  his  wife  revived  at  the  sight  of  her  suffer- 
ing, to  hasten  her  convalescence  by  an  assurance  of 
his  full  forgiveness.  In  the  following  February,  Made- 
leine Bejart  died,  leaving  the  bulk  of  her  property  to 
Armande,  and,  towards  the  middle  of  that  year,  Moliere 
removed  from  the  Place  du  Palais-Royal,  where  he  had 
lived  for  so  long  with  the  Bejarts  and  Mile,  de  Brie,  to 
a  large  house  in  the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  near  the  Academic 
des  Peintres,  which  he  furnished  very  sumptuously. 
Here,  on  September  15,  Armande  gave  birth  to  her 
third  child — a  son — baptized  as  Pierre  Jean  Baptiste 
Armand  on  October  i,  Boileau-Puimorin,  brother  of 
Boileau-Despreaux,  and  Mile.  Mignard,  daughter  of  the 
celebrated  painter,  acting  as  sponsors.  The  little  boy, 
however,  only  survived  this  ceremony  a  few  days,  thus 
preceding  his  illustrious  father  to  the  grave  by  rather 
less  than  four  months. 

The  reconciliation  with  his  wife,  indeed,  in  itself  so 
happy,  was  destined  to  prove  fatal  to  Moliere,  and  was 
undoubtedly  one  of  the  causes  of  his  premature  death. 
For  some  years,  the  poet  had  suffered  from  a  chest 
affection,  very  possibly  due  to  frequent  exposure  during 
his  provincial  tours.  In  the  winter  of  1665-1666,  we 
learn  from  Robinet  that  he  had  had  an  illness  which  all 
but  terminated  fatally,  and  in  the  spring  of  1667  he  was 
again  "  tout  proche  cTentrer  dans  la  biere"  was  absent 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  61 

from  the  theatre  for  two  months,  and  was  compelled 
to  restrict  himself  to  a  milk  diet,  and  speak  as  little 
as  possible  when  not  on  the  stage.  The  retired  life  he 
had  led  during  his  breach  with  Armande  had,  of  course, 
favoured  the  adoption  of  this  regimen,  and  under  it  his 
health  had  so  much  improved  that,  believing  himself 
cured,  and  unwilling  to  impose  on  his  wife  the  cheerless 
society  of  a  valetudinarian,  he  abandoned  his  abstemious 
habits,  entertained  largely,  and,  in  short,  resumed  his 
former  mode  of  life.  The  result  was  a  rapid  aggravation 
of  his  complaint ;  his  nights  were  sleepless,  he  was 
racked  by  a  terrible  cough,  and,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year  1673,  it  became  evident  that  his  days  were  numbered. 
In  this  condition,  by  the  irony  of  Fate,  it  fell  to  him 
to  represent  the  folly  of  a  man  in  perfect  health  who, 
imagining  himself  the  victim  of  all  manner  of  fell 
diseases,  is  ready  to  submit  to  any  and  every  remedy 
that  may  be  suggested  to  him, — that  is  to  say,  the  exact 
counterpart  of  his  own  state.  On  February  10,  the 
Malade  tmaginaire,  a  happy  conception  in  the  com- 
position of  which  the  author  had  doubtless  contrived 
to  find  some  relief  from  his  sufferings,  both  of  body 
and  mind — for  there  is  some  reason  to  believe  that  his 
relations  with  his  wife  were  again  becoming  strained — 
was  produced  at  the  Palais-Royal,  and  played  for  three 
nights  to  crowded  houses.  On  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  performance,  February  ly,1  Moliere  was  so  weak 

1  Moli£re's  troupe  only  played  three  times  a  week,  on  Sundays, 
Tuesdays,  and  Fridays ;  on  the  other  days,  the  theatre  was  occupied 
by  the  Italian  comedians.  Friday  was  the  favourite  day  for  the  pro- 
duction of  new  plays.  The  playhouses  were  also  frequently  closed : 
during  Holy  Week  and  the  week  following  Easter,  during  the  illness 
of  a  member  of  the  Royal  Family,  on  public  fete  days,  and  also, 
occasionally,  when  any  particularly  notorious  criminal  was  to  be  executed 


62       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

that  Armande  and  Baron  united  in  urging  him  not  to 
play,  but  their  efforts  were  unavailing.  "  How,"  he 
asked,  "  can  I  refuse  to  appear  when  so  many  persons' 
bread  depends  upon  it  ?  I  should  reproach  myself  for 
the  distress  I  might  cause  them,  as  I  have  sufficient 
strength  to  prevent  it."  This  speech  is  often  quoted 
as  a  proof  of  Moliere's  consideration  for  others,  but 
though  the  great  writer's  unselfishness  and  generosity 
are  happily  beyond  dispute,  it  would  appear  more  prob- 
able that  his  plea  was  merely  an  excuse  for  disregarding 
the  advice  of  his  wife  and  friend,  as  he  was  sufficiently 
well  off  to  have  been  able  to  compensate  those  who 
would  have  suffered  by  the  temporary  closing  of  the 
theatre  without  any  very  serious  inconvenience.1  No ; 
Moliere  knew  that  his  end  was  near,  and,  like  the  brave 
man  he  was,  he  preferred  to  die  in  harness,  rather  than, 
by  taking  to  his  bed,  prolong  his  sufferings  a  few  days 
longer. 

Accordingly,  when  the  play  began  at  four  o'clock, 
he  again  appeared  in  the  high-backed  arm-chair  of  the 
imaginary  invalid,  and  acted  the  part  with  as  much 
whimsical  humour  as  on  the  three  previous  occasions, 
though  it  was  obvious  to  those  on  the  stage  that  every 
speech  and  movement  cost  him  a  terrible  effort ;  and  in 
the  burlesque  ceremony  where  Argan  takes  the  oath 

in  the  Place  de  Greve.  Thus,  there  were  no  performances  on  July  17, 
1676,  the  day  on  which  Madame  de  Brinvilliers,  the  poisoner,  paid  the 
penalty  of  her  crimes.  The  play  began  at  four  o'clock  and  was  always 
over  before  seven.  Early  in  the  century,  the  curtain,  in  winter,  seems  to 
have  risen  at  two  o'clock,  in  order  to  allow  of  the  audience  reaching 
their  homes  before  the  footpads  were  abroad. 

1  Grimarest  places  Moliere's  income  as  high  as  30,000  livres,  a 
sum,  according  to  M.  Larroumet's  computation,  equal  to  1 50,000  francs 
to-day. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  63 

as  a  new  doctor,  swearing  to  adhere  to  the  remedies 
prescribed  by  antiquity  and  to  ignore  modern  discovery, 
he  was  seized  with  a  convulsion,  which  he  endeavoured 
vainly  to  disguise  by  forcing  a  laugh.  When  the  curtain 
fell,  he  made  his  way  to  Baron's  dressing-room  and 
complained  that  he  was  "  perishing  of  cold."  A  chair 
was  obtained,  and  the  dying  man  conveyed  to  his  home, 
where  he  was  put  to  bed.  Feeling  that  his  last  hour 
was  at  hand,  he  asked  for  the  consolations  of  religion, 
and  Armande  and  Baron  hurried  off  to  Saint-Eustache, 
where,  however,  the  two  priests  in  attendance,  learning 
who  it  was  who  required  their  help,  declined  to  leave 
the  church.  The  next  priest  applied  to  had  a  better 
sense  of  his  duty,  and  consented  to  administer  the 
Sacraments.  But,  in  the  meanwhile,  much  precious 
time  had  been  wasted,  and  when  he  reached  the  house, 
Moliere  had  no  further  need  of  his  services.  He  had 
died  at  ten  o'clock,  in  the  arms  of  two  Sisters  of  Charity, 
to  whom  he  had  long  given  shelter  during  their  Lenten 
visits  to  Paris,  and  who  had  but  that  day  arrived  in  the 
capital. 

Notwithstanding  the  assistance  of  these  two  nuns,  and 
the  fact  that  a  priest  had  been  summoned  to  his  death- 
bed, Moliere  was  none  the  less  regarded  as  having  died 
without  the  consolations  of  religion,  and  M.  Merlin,  the 
cure  of  Saint-Eustache,  refused  ecclesiastical  burial  to  his 
remains. 

Armande  at  once  addressed  a  petition  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Paris,  Harlay  de  Chanvalon,  explaining  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  and  laying  stress  upon  the  fact 
of  her  husband  having  communicated  at  the  previous 
Easter.  It  has  been  stated  that  the  archbishop's  reply 
was  an  absolute  refusal.  This  is  incorrect ;  he  confined 


64       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

himself  to  referring  the  petition  to  an  official  whose  duty 
it  was  to  inquire  into  such  matters. 

However,  Armande,  dreading  an  unfavourable  an- 
swer, determined  to  seek  the  intervention  of  the  King, 
and,  accompanied  by  the  cur£of  Auteuil,  a  liberal-minded 
ecclesiastic  and  a  personal  friend  of  Moliere,  she  set  off 
for  Saint-Germain,  where  the  Court  then  was.  Even  her 
enemies  are  compelled  to  admit  that,  in  these  trying  cir- 
cumstances, she  showed  both  dignity  and  courage.  "  If," 
she  exclaimed,  when  the  King  demurred  to  granting  her 
request,  "  if  my  husband  was  a  criminal,  his  crimes  were 
authorised  by  your  Majesty  in  person."  This  was  cer- 
tainly true,  though  to  remind  his  Majesty  of  the  fact 
was  hardly  calculated  to  further  her  cause,  nor  did  the 
cur£  of  Auteuil  improve  matters  by  embarking  on  a  theo- 
logical argument,  apparently  with  the  view  of  anticipating 
an  attack  upon  his  orthodoxy  by  his  more  bigoted 
brethren.  Nevertheless,  Louis  XIV.,  though  obviously 
much  annoyed  at  such  outspokenness,  behaved  with  that 
tact  which  is  one  of  his  best  claims  to  our  respect.  He 
dismissed  the  widow  and  the  cure\  telling  them  that  the 
matter  was  one  which  concerned  the  archbishop  and  not 
himself;  but,  at  the  same  time,  he  wrote  to  the  prelate, 
bidding  him  "  take  steps  to  avoid  eclat  and  scandal." 

The  archbishop,  as  became  a  good  courtier,  bowed 
to  the  royal  commands,  but,  in  order  to  save  appearances, 
compromised  the  matter.  He  permitted  "  the  cure  of 
Saint-Eustache  to  give  ecclesiastical  burial  to  the  body 
of  the  deceased  in  the  cemetery  of  the  parish,  on  condi- 
tion, nevertheless,  that  it  should  take  place  without  any 
ostentation,  with  two  priests  only,  and  after  dusk  had 
fallen  ;  that  there  should  be  no  solemn  service  on  his 
behalf,  either  in  the  said  parish  of  Saint-Eustache  or  even 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  65 

in  any  church  of  the  regular  clergy,  and  that  our  present 
permission  shall  be  without  prejudice  to  the  rules  of  the 
ritual  of  our  Church,  which  we  desire  shall  be  observed 
according  to  their  form  and  tenor." l 

Much  has  been  written  on  the  refusal  of  the  cure  of 
Saint-Eustache  to  accord  Moliere  Christian  burial,  and 
on  the  conditions  imposed  by  the  Archbishop  of  Paris 
after  the  official  intervention  of  the  king  ;  and  the  bigotry 
and  inhumanity  of  both  priest  and  prelate  have  been  de- 
nounced in  scathing  terms.  But  the  majority  of  those 
who  have  treated  of  the  incident  were  better  acquainted 
with  the  theatre  than  the  Sorbonne,  for,  though  the 
souvenirs  of  Tartuffe  and  Don  Juan  no  doubt  counted  for 
much  in  the  matter,  Harlay  de  Chanvalon  and  his  sub- 
ordinate were,  after  all,  only  putting  into  force  a  rule  of 
the  Church  which  had  existed  for  centuries,  though  in 
recent  times  it  had,  happily,  been  more  honoured  in  the 
breach  than  the  observance.  As,  however,  the  question 
is  of  great  interest,  and  one,  also,  to  which  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  return  more  than  once  in  the  course  of  the 
present  volume,  it  may  be  as  well  for  us  to  give  here  a 
brief  sketch  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  in  regard  to 
the  actor. 

The  hostility  of  the  Christian  Church  to  the  theatre 
may  be  traced  back  to  very  early  times.  The  Fathers  of 
the  Church — Tertullian,  Saint-Cyprian,  Saint-Chrysos- 
tome,  and  others — had  been  unsparing  in  their  condem- 
nation of  the  actor,2  whilst  Saint-Salvien,  a  priest  of  the 

1  Cited  by  M.  Gaston  Maugras,  Les  Comcdiens  hors  la  /oi,  p.  122. 

2  Under  the  term  actor,  the  early  Fathers  seem  to  have  included  not 
only  actors  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word,  but  mimes,  jugglers, 
acrobats,    gladiators,    chariot-drivers,    and,    in    fact,   almost    all    public 
performers. 

E 


66       QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

fourth  century,  went  so  far  as  to  declare  that  "  comedy 
was  worse  than  blasphemy,  theft,  homicide,  and  all  other 
crimes,  and  that  the  spectator  was  the  accomplice  of  the 
performer."  Nor  was  this  hostility  by  any  means  con- 
fined to  treatises  and  sermons.  The  Council  of  Elvira, 
in  305,  enacted  that  no  actor  was  to  be  received  into  the 
Church  unless  he  had  solemnly  engaged  to  renounce  his 
profession  ;  if  he  failed  to  keep  his  promise,  he  was  to  be 
immediately  excommunicated.  At  the  Council  of  Aries, 
held  five  years  later,  all  circus-performers  and  actors  were 
excluded  from  the  Sacraments,  so  long  as  they  exercised 
their  profession ;  and  the  third  Council  of  Carthage 
(A.D.  397)  denied  them  baptism  or  absolution.  Hence- 
forth, the  Church  regarded  actors  as  beyond  her  pale, 
and,  imitating  the  severity  of  the  Roman  Law,  placed 
them  on  the  same  footing  as  prostitutes.  She  refused 
them  baptism  ;  she  refused  them  absolution  ;  she  refused 
to  marry  them ;  she  refused  to  accept  them  as  sponsors 
at  the  baptism  of  the  children  of  their  relatives  and  friends  ; 
she  refused  them  the  Holy  Communion,  in  public  or  in 
private,  in  life  or  on  their  deathbeds ;  finally,  she  refused 
them  even  Christian  burial. 

Extravagantly  severe  as  all  these  canons  may,  at  first 
sight,  appear,  they  were  none  the  less  perfectly  logical. 
It  was  indeed  only  natural  that  the  early  Church  should 
insist  that  actors  who  desired  to  participate  in  her  Sacra- 
ments should  forthwith  abjure  their  profession,  when  we 
pause  to  consider  the  exceedingly  licentious  character  of 
the  Roman  theatre  and  the  powerful  influence  it  exer- 
cised in  perpetuating  the  memory  of  Paganism.  It  is  to 
be  remarked,  however,  that  the  censures  pronounced 
against  the  actor  emanated  not  from  any  Pope  or 
ecumenical  council,  but  from  provincial  synods,  and 


THE   WIFE   OF  MOLlfcRE  67 

when,  in  process  of  time,  Paganism  disappeared  and 
practically  the  whole  of  civilised  Europe  became  Chris- 
tian, they  naturally  ceased  to  be  enforced — though  they 
were  never  formally  abrogated — in  every  country,  save 
one.  The  exception  was  France,  where  the  old  anathe- 
mas remained  in  force,  as  a  natural  consequence  of  the 
independent  attitude  adopted  by  the  French  clergy  to- 
wards the  Holy  See. 

In  order  to  protect  themselves  against  the  encroach- 
ments of  the  Popes,  and  to  resist  the  changes  which  they 
were  incessantly  striving  to  introduce  into  the  discipline 
of  the  Church,  the  French  bishops  laid  the  foundations 
of  Gallicanism,  by  declaring  immutable  all  the  canons 
promulgated  by  the  early  councils  up  to  the  eighth  cen- 
tury which  had  passed  into  the  customs  of  the  Church  of 
France.  The  adoption  of  these  canons  was  a  very  serious 
matter  for  the  theatrical  profession  in  France,  for  among 
them  was  that  of  the  Council  of  Aries,  already  mentioned, 
which  expressly  excluded  the  actor  from  the  Sacraments, 
so  long  as  he  followed  his  calling.  However,  it  was 
clearly  understood  that  the  penalties  pronounced  should 
not  be  applied  to  the  regular  actor,  but  only  to  mounte- 
banks and  other  persons  whose  performances  might  serve 
to  recall  those  of  Paganism  ;  and  indeed  down  to  the 
time  of  the  Reformation,  when  the  Catholic  clergy,  un- 
willing to  show  less  austerity  than  those  of  the  Reformed 
faith,  began  to  proscribe  severely  all  kinds  of  amuse- 
ments, even  these  seem  to  have  been  treated  with  great 
indulgence.1 

In  1624,  the  bigoted  Jean  de  Gondy,  Archbishop  of 
Paris,  declared  in  a  pastoral  letter  that  actors  ought  to 
be  deprived  of  the  Sacraments  and  ecclesiastical  burial, 

1  M.  Gaston  Maugras,  Les  Comediens  hors  la  lot,  passim. 


68       QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

and  stigmatized  their  profession  as  "  infamous  and  one 
unworthy  of  a  Christian."  Nevertheless,  until  the  latter 
part  of  the  seventeenth  century,  thanks  in  a  great  measure, 
no  doubt,  to  the  patronage  bestowed  on  the  stage  by 
Richelieu  and  Mazarin,  in  practice  the  greatest  tolerance 
prevailed,  and  the  clergy  accorded  to  the  actor  the  same 
treatment  as  to  all  other  good  Catholics.  Thus,  on 
January  6,  1654,  we  find  Moliere  appearing  as  godfather 
at  a  church  at  Montpellier,  and,  in  1670  and  again  in 
1672,  discharging  the  same  duty  at  churches  in  Paris, 
while  his  marriage,  in  February  1662,  at  Saint-Germain- 
1'Auxerrois,  was  celebrated  without  the  least  difficulty 
being  raised. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  it  was  the  protection 
accorded  the  theatre,  and  the  extreme  indulgence  shown 
to  all  connected  with  it,  by  a  great  party  in  the  Church 
itself  that  was  directly  responsible  for  the  termination 
of  this  happy  state  of  affairs  and  the  violent  reaction, 
of  which  the  conduct  of  Harlay  de  Chanvalon  and  the 
cure  of  Saint-Eustache  towards  Moliere  was  but  the 
beginning. 

For  some  time,  the  Jesuits  seem  to  have  regarded  the 
theatre  with  disfavour ;  but  towards  the  middle  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  perceiving  that  it  might  very  readily 
be  made  to  serve  as  a  vehicle  for  the  propagation  of  their 
own  ideas,  their  attitude  changed,  and  they  not  only  per- 
mitted all  who  came  under  their  influence  to  attend  the 
play,  but  even  encouraged  the  pupils  in  their  colleges  to 
perform  theological  comedies,  in  which  their  enemies,  the 
Jansenists,  were  held  up  to  ridicule.  This,  naturally, 
had  the  effect  of  exasperating  the  zealots  of  Port-Royal 
and  their  numerous  adherents,  who,  always  hostile  to 
the  drama,  quickly  became  bitterly  antagonistic  and 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  69 

required  but  very  slight    provocation   to  declare  open 
war. 

This  provocation  was  not  long  in  coming.  In  1665, 
the  clever  but  eccentric  playwright  Desmarets  de  Saint- 
Sorlin,  the  author  of  Les  Visionnaires^  having  passed  "  a 
la  devotion  la  •plus  outree"  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Jesuits, 
and,  believing  that  he  had  received  a  call  from  Heaven  to 
combat  the  heretics — that  is  to  say,  the  Jansenists — made 
a  violent  attack  upon  them.  The  Jansenists  replied  by 
the  pen  of  their  famous  publicist,  Nicole,  who  stigmatized 
those  who  wrote  for  the  theatre  as  "  public  poisoners, 
not  of  bodies,  but  of  souls."  Racine,  believing  his 
honour  touched,  joined  in  the  fray  and  ridiculed  the 
bigotry  of  Port-Royal.  Nicole  rejoined  with  a  Traite 
de  la  Comedie,  wherein,  relying  on  the  teaching  of  the 
Fathers  of  the  Church,  he  condemned  not  only  dramatic 
authors,  but  those  who  interpreted  them.  "  The  play- 
house," said  he,  "  is  a  school  of  Vice.  The  profession  of 
an  actor  is  an  employment  unworthy  of  a  Christian,"  and 
much  more  to  the  same  effect.  Armand  de  Bourbon, 
Prince  de  Conti,  formerly  a  generous  patron  of  the 
drama  and  of  Moliere,  but  now,  for  some  time  past,  a 
Jansenist  of  the  most  advanced  type,  published  a  similar 
work,  and  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  a  troupe  of  actors 
was  "  a  troupe  of  devils,"  and  to  amuse  oneself  at 
the  play  was  to  "delight  the  demon."  So  the  war 
went  on. 

The  attacks  of  Nicole  and  the  Prince  de  Conti  were 
not  without  their  effect ;  they  aroused  the  zeal  of  all 
who  disliked  the  theatre  and  believed  it  prejudicial  to 
morality ;  and  a  regular  campaign  was  organised.  All 
unconsciously,  Moliere  himself  forged  a  terrible 
weapon  for  the  enemies  of  his  profession.  The  produc- 


70      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

tion  of  Tartuffe  aroused  a  perfect  storm  of  indignation 
among  all  sections  of  the  clergy ;  Jesuit  and  Jansenist 
united  in  denouncing  the  play,  its  author,  and  his  calling. 
A  cur£  of  Paris,  one  Pere  Roull6,  demanded  that  the 
writer,  "  this  demon  clothed  with  flesh  and  habited  as  a 
man,  the  most  notorious  blasphemer  and  libertine  that 
has  appeared  for  centuries  past,  should  be  delivered  to 
the  flames,  the  forerunners  of  those  of  hell ; "  Bourda- 
loue  preached  against  it ;  Bossuet  declared  the  works  of 
the  poet  to  be  a  tissue  of  buffooneries,  blasphemies,  in- 
famies, and  obscenities ;  and  Hardouin  de  Perefixe,  the 
then  Archbishop  of  Paris,  issued  an  order  forbidding 
people  "  to  represent,  read  or  hear  Tartuffe  recited  under 
pain  of  excommunication." 

All  the  old  prejudices  of  the  Church  against  the 
theatre  awoke  with  redoubled  force.  All  the  old 
anathemas  against  the  hapless  actor,  which  had  been 
allowed  to  slumber  for  centuries,  were  dug  up  by  in- 
dustrious theologians,  and  the  clergy  waited  eagerly  for 
opportunities  of  applying  them.  In  1671,  Floridor,  the 
famous  tragedian  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  fell 
dangerously  ill  and  sent  for  the  cure  of  Saint-Eustache 
to  give  him  absolution.  The  cure  flatly  refused,  save  on 
condition  that  the  actor  would  engage,  in  the  event  of 
his  recovery,  never  again  to  set  foot  on  the  stage. 
Floridor  gave  the  required  promise ;  nevertheless,  when 
he  died,  he  was  buried  without  ecclesiastical  rites. 
Moliere  himself,  as  we  have  just  seen,  was  the  next 
victim  of  priestly  intolerance. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  February  21,  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  in  conformity  with  the  orders 
of  Chanvalon.  By  that  hour,  an  immense  crowd  had 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  71 

gathered  in  front  of  the  house,  drawn  thither,  no  doubt, 
merely  by  curiosity.  Armande,  however,  "  unable  to 
penetrate  its  intention,'*  became  much  alarmed,  fearing 
that  the  enemies  of  her  husband  were  organising  a  riot, 
and  that  some  indignity  to  his  remains  was  intended. 
She  accordingly  determined  to  endeavour  to  appease  it, 
and  going  to  a  window,  threw  out  handfuls  of  silver 
to  the  amount  of  one  thousand  livres,  "at  the  same 
time,  imploring  the  assembled  people  to  give  their 
prayers  to  her  husband,  in  terms  so  touching  that  there 
was  not  one  among  those  persons  who  did  not  pray  to 
God  with  all  his  heart." 

The  body  of  Moliere  was  not  taken  into  the  church, 
but  conveyed  direct  to  the  cemetery  of  Saint- Joseph  ; 
the  coffin,  covered  by  a  large  pall,  being  preceded  by 
two  priests  and  six  enfants  bleus  carrying  lighted  tapers 
in  silver  sconces,  and  followed  by  a  considerable  number 
of  people,  many  of  whom  bore  torches.  Among  the 
mourners  were  Boileau,  La  Fontaine,  Chapelle,  and  the 
players  of  the  Palais-Royal. 

When  the  cortege  reached  the  cemetery,  which  was 
situated  in  the  Rue  Montmartre,  a  long  delay  occurred, 
as  the  gate  was  closed  and  the  keys  had  been  forgotten. 
While  awaiting  their  arrival,  the  mourners  were  able 
to  read,  by  the  light  of  the  blazing  torches,  a  placard 
posted  on  the  wall,  which  bore  the  following  verses : — 

"  II  est  pass£  ce  Moliere 
Du  Theatre  a  la  biere  ; 
Le  pauvre  homme  a  fait  un  faux  bond ; 
Et  ce  tant  renomme  bouffon 
N'a  jamais  su  si  bien  faire 
Le  Malade  imaginaire 
Qu'il  a  fait  la  mort  pour  tout  de  bon." 


72       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

At  last,  the  keys  arrived,  and  the  ceremony  was  con- 
cluded without  further  incident.  Moliere  was  interred 
in  the  middle  of  the  cemetery,  at  the  foot  of  the  cross. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken  over  his  grave.1 

Above  the  last  resting-place  of  her  husband  Armande 
placed  a  large  tombstone,  which  was  still  to  be  seen  in 
1745,  when  the  brothers  Parfaict  published  their  His- 
toire  du  Tht&tre  Franfais.  "  This  stone,"  writes  Titon 
du  Tillet,  "  is  cracked  down  the  middle,  which  was 
occasioned  by  a  very  noble  and  very  remarkable  action 
on  the  part  of  his  widow.  Two  or  three  years  after 
Moliere's  death,  there  was  a  very  severe  winter,  and 
she  ordered  to  be  conveyed  to  the  cemetery  a  hundred 
loads  of  wood,  which  were  burned  on  her  husband's 
tomb,  to  warm  all  the  poor  of  the  quarter;  the  great 
heat  of  the  fire  caused  this  stone  to  crack  in  two." 

It  is,  as  we  have  said  elsewhere,  an  exceedingly 
difficult  task  to  arrive  at  a  definite  conclusion  in  regard 
to  the  conduct  of  Armande.  That  she  was  the  abandoned 
woman  that  the  Fameuse  Comedienne  and  the  writers  who 
follow  it  have  depicted  her  we  entirely  decline  to 
believe.  If  she  had  been,  is  it  conceivable  that  Moliere 
would  have  lived  with  her  so  long,  or  that,  once  having 
broken  with  her,  he  would  ever  have  been  brought  to 
consent  to  a  reconciliation?  On  the  other  hand,  to 
pretend  that  she  was  an  irreproachable  wife  seems  as 
hazardous  as  to  affirm  her  misconduct.  There  is  no 
smoke  without  fire,  and  the  separation  between  her 
and  her  husband — a  separation  lasting  for  five  years — 
is  a  highly  suspicious  circumstance.  Its  immediate  cause 
may,  of  course,  have  been  merely  incompatibility  of 

1  M.  Gaston  Maugras,  Let  Comedicns  hors  la  !oit  p.  124. 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLIERE  73 

temper — for  the  account  of  the  matter  given  by  the 
Fameuse  Comedienne  is  utterly  unreliable — but,  at  the 
same  time,  it  may  very  well  have  been  occasioned  by 
a  far  graver  reason.  On  the  whole,  the  wisest  course 
would  appear  to  be  to  adopt  a  middle  position,  and, 
while  refusing  to  accept  the  statements  of  her  detractors, 
to  be  equally  diffident  about  associating  ourselves  with 
the  somewhat  violent  reaction  in  the  lady's  favour  which 
has  set  in  within  recent  years. 

Whatever  may  have  been  Armande's  sins  or  short- 
comings, however,  we  should,  in  justice  to  her,  re- 
member that  the  responsibility  for  Moliere's  unhappiness 
did  not  rest  entirely  with  her.  If  she  was  selfish,  vain, 
and  frivolous,  greedy  for  pleasure,  and  impatient  of 
contradiction,  Moliere  possessed  the  nervousness  and 
irritability  so  frequently  associated  with  genius  in  a 
very  marked  degree,  and  which,  in  his  case,  were  aggra- 
vated by  ill-health  and  overwork.  The  servant  of  a 
public  ever  exacting  and  eager  for  novelties,  the  strain 
to  which  he  was  subjected,  always  very  great,  must,  at 
times,  have  been  well-nigh  unbearable ;  for  we  must 
remember  that  he  was  not  only  a  dramatist,  but  an 
actor,  not  only  an  actor,  but  a  manager.  The  financial 
affairs  of  the  troupe,  it  is  true,  were  in  the  capable  hands 
of  La  Grange  ;  but  Moliere  made  himself  responsible 
for  its  efficiency,  and  though  the  Impromptu  de  Versailles 
no  doubt  conveys  an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  difficulties 
in  this  direction,  they  were  probably  considerable.  The 
jealousy  between  the  two  principal  actresses,  Armande 
and  Mile,  de  Brie,  must  have  been  alone  a  fruitful 
source  of  trouble.  In  these  circumstances,  it  is  not 
difficult  to  understand  that  the  little  trials  of  domestic 
life,  which  in  the  majority  of  men  arouse  but  a  passing 


74      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

feeling  of  annoyance,  should  have  presented  themselves 
to  him  as  intolerable  vexations,  and  that  the  sudden 
gusts  of  passion  in  which,  we  are  told,  he  was  wont  to 
indulge  on  the  most  trifling  provocation,  should  have 
widened  the  breach  between  himself  and  Armande,  whose 
narrow  mind  was  incapable  of  comprehending  that  in 
such  outbursts  men  of  her  husband's  temperament  oft- 
times  seek  relief  for  long  weeks  of  mental  strain  and 
anxiety.  Add  to  all  this  the  fact  that  Moliere  was  of 
an  excessively  jealous  disposition,  and  it  becomes  obvious 
that  the  marriage  was  doomed  to  failure  from  the  very 
first ;  in  fact,  the  only  thing  to  occasion  surprise  is  that 
the  inevitable  rupture  did  not  take  place  at  a  much 
earlier  date,  and  that  it  was  ever  healed. 


Moliere,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  buried  on 
February  21,  and  three  days  later  the  theatre  of  the 
Palais-Royal  reopened  with  a  performance  of  the  Mis- 
anthrope, Armande  playing  Celimene.  Her  conduct 
in  thus  resuming  her  place  in  the  company  so  soon 
after  her  husband's  death  was  commented  upon  very 
unfavourably ;  l  but  it  would  appear  to  have  been 
dictated  by  stern  necessity.  In  the  face  of  the  formid- 
able competition  of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  the  troupe 
of  Moliere,  already  terribly  weakened  by  the  death  of  its 
chief,  could  not  possibly  have  afforded  to  lose  its  leading 
actress  for  even  a  brief  period ;  and  Armande,  therefore, 

1  "  It  is  true  that  the  loss  of  Moliere  is  irreparable,"  writes  the 
Comte  de  Limoges  to  Bussy- Rabutin  on  March  3,  1673.  "I  believe 
that  no  one  will  be  less  affected  than  his  wife ;  she  acted  in  comedy 
yesterday."  And  Bussy  answers :  "  So  far  as  I  can  see,  her  mourning 
will  not  cost  her  much." 


THE   WIFE  OF   MOLlfeRE  75 

decided  to  sacrifice  her  own  feelings  to  the  interests  of 
her  colleagues. 

Indeed,  as  matters  stood,  the  continued  existence  of 
the  "Comediens  du  Roi"  as  a  separate  company  was  soon 
in  imminent  peril.  During  the  Easter  recess,  the  Hotel 
de  Bourgogne  intrigued  vigorously  against  them,  with 
the  result  that  four  of  the  best  players,  with  Baron  at 
their  head,  resigned  their  places  and  passed  over  to  the 
older  theatre ;  while,  shortly  afterwards,  Lulli  obtained 
the  king's  permission  to  make  the  theatre  of  the  Palais- 
Royal  the  home  of  French  opera,  and  the  unfortunate 
Molieristes  found  themselves  without  a  stage  to  act  upon. 
This  was  a  crushing  blow ;  and  when,  very  reluctantly, 
the  troupe  had  made  overtures  to  their  old  rivals  in  the 
Rue  Mauconseil,  with  a  view  to  an  amalgamation,  and 
had  been  met  by  a  curt  refusal,  the  position  seemed 
almost  desperate. 

Well  indeed  was  it  for  Armande  and  her  colleagues 
that  they  numbered  among  them,  in  the  person  of 
La  Grange,  one  of  the  shrewdest  and  most  capable  men 
of  business  who  ever  trod  the  boards  of  a  theatre.  Born, 
about  1640,  at  Amiens,  of  respectable  Picard  stock, 
La  Grange,  after  two  or  three  years'  experience  in  the 
provinces  as  a  strolling  player,  joined  his  fortunes  to 
those  of  Moliere ;  and,  in  May  1659,  on  the  death  of 
Joseph  Bejart,  stepped  into  his  shoes  as  the  jeune  premier 
of  the  troupe.  As  an  actor,  he  appears  to  have  been 
altogether  admirable,  the  type  of  the  perfect  lover, 
as  understood  in  those  days,  and,  according  to  the 
anonymous  author  of  the  Entretiens  galants,  to  see  him 
play  with  Armande  in  such  a  piece  as  the  Malade 
imaginaire  was  a  sight  not  easily  forgotten :  "  Their 
acting  continues  still,  even  when  their  part  is  concluded ; 


76       QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

they  are  never  useless  on  the  stage ;  they  play  almost  as 
well  when  they  listen  as  when  they  speak.  Their  glances 
are  never  wasted ;  their  eyes  do  not  wander  round  the 
boxes ;  they  know  that  the  theatre  is  full,  but  they 
speak  and  act  as  if  they  see  only  those  who  are  concerned 
in  their  role  and  action." 

But,  excellent  actor  as  was  La  Grange,  he  was  even 
better  as  an  "  orator  "  l  and  manager,  posts  which,  at  the 
time  of  Moliere's  death,  he  had  occupied  for  some  six 
years ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  much  of  the  success 
which  had  attended  the  troupe  was  due  to  his  skill  in 
gauging  the  public  taste,  his  untiring  energy,  and  his 
personal  popularity.  To  him,  too,  we  owe  that  wonder- 
ful Regisfre,  a  perfect  mine  of  accurate  and  detailed 
information  about  the  doings  of  Moliere's  troupe,  the 
Hotel  Guenegaud,  and  the  early  years  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise ;  while  it  was  under  his  auspices  that  the  first 
complete  edition  of  his  old  chief's  works  was  given  to 
the  world. 

On  the  advice  of  La  Grange,  Armande  now  resolved 

1  It  was  the  "  orator's "  duty  to  come  before  the  curtain  to  make 
announcements  or  crave  the  indulgence  of  the  audience  in  a  neat  little 
speech,  flowered  with  compliments  and  sparkling  with  witty  allusions. 
It  was  a  very  important  post  and  was  always  filled  by  an  actor  of 
distinction.  Thus  Bellerose  and  Floridor  were  the  orators  of  the  Hotel 
de  Bourgogne,  Mondory  of  the  Marais,  while  Moliere  was  for  eome 
years  his  own  bellman.  La  Grange,  however,  appears  to  have  excelled 
them  all.  "Although,"  says  Chappuzeau,  "he  is  but  of  middle  height, 
his  presence  is  good,  and  his  air  easy  and  elegant.  You  are  charmed 
before  he  opens  his  lips.  As  he  has  a  great  deal  of  fire  and  of  the 
decent  boldness  an  orator  should  have,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  listen  to  him 
when  he  comes  on  to  speak  the  compliment.  That  one  with  which  he 
regaled  his  audience  at  the  opening  of  the  theatre  of  the  Troupe  du  Roi 
(Hotel  Gue'ne'gaud)  was  in  the  best  imaginable  taste.  What  he  had 
excellently  contrived  he  spoke  with  marvellous  grace." 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  77 

on  a  bold  stroke.  Some  years  before,  a  play-loving 
nobleman,  the  Marquis  de  Sourdeac,  had  built  a  theatre 
in  a  tennis-court  in  the  Rue  Mazarine,  near  the  Luxem- 
bourg, where  opera  had  been  performed,  until,  in  March 
1672,  the  intriguing  Lulli  had  succeeded  in  securing  for 
himself  the  exclusive  right  of  representing  musical  pieces. 
It  was  a  fine  house,  fitted  up  with  every  convenience, 
"  with  a  stage,"  says  Samuel  Chappuzeau,  in  his  work  on 
the  Paris  theatres  of  the  time,  "  large  enough  to  allow 
the  most  elaborate  machinery  to  be  worked."  La  Grange 
proposed  that  the  troupe  should  acquire  this  theatre,  and 
himself  undertook  the  negotiations,  which  resulted  in 
the  Marquis  de  Sourdeac  and  his  partner,  a  M.  de  Cham- 
peron,  ceding  to  Armande  their  lease  of  the  property  for 
the  sum  of  30,000  livres,  of  which  14,000  was  to  be 
paid  in  cash  and  the  balance  by  fifty  livres  on  each 
performance  given  there. 

An  event  of  great  importance  was  the  immediate 
outcome  of  the  acquisition  of  this  theatre.  For  some 
years  past,  the  popularity  of  the  Theatre  du  Marais  had 
been  steadily  declining,  a  circumstance  which  seems  to 
have  been  attributable  rather  to  the  mediocrity  of  the 
plays  produced  there  and  the  fact  that  the  district  in 
which  it  was  situated  was  no  longer  the  centre  of 
Parisian  life,  as  it  had  been  during  the  first  half  of  the 
century,  than  to  any  lack  of  talent  on  the  part  of  the 
company,  which,  indeed,  comprised  several  excellent 
performers  of  both  sexes ;  and  the  establishment  of 
the  Opera  threatened  to  reduce  its  already  diminished 
receipts  still  further.  Accordingly,  Louis  XIV.  decided 
that  it  should  join  forces  with  Mile.  Moliere's  troupe, 
and,  on  June  23,  1673,  an  ordinance  issued  by 
Colbert  closed  the  old  playhouse  in  the  Rue  Vieille-du- 


78       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Temple,  which  had  survived  the  theatrical  vicissitudes  of 
nearly  eighty  years,  and  granted  permission  to  the  two 
united  companies  henceforth  to  be  known  as  the  "  Troupe 
du  Roi"  to  perform  comedies  and  other  divertissements 
honnetes  in  the  Rue  Mazarine. 

The  new  theatre,  which  was  usually  called  the  Theatre 
Guenegaud,  the  street  of  that  name  being  close  at  hand, 
opened  its  doors  on  July  9  with  a  performance  of 
Tartuffe.  At  first,  it  met  with  but  indifferent  success, 
and  between  that  date  and  Easter  1674,  the  share  of 
each  player  only  amounted  to  1481  livres,  a  striking 
contrast  to  the  takings  at  the  Palais-Royal  during  the 
last  year  of  Moliere's  life ;  while,  on  one  occasion,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  second  season,  V Avare  was  played  to 
a  house  of  88  livres !  However,  matters  steadily 
improved ;  by  the  following  Easter  the  success  of  the 
company  was  assured,  and  the  season  of  1679-1680 
was  worth  1 100  livres  more  to  each  of  the  old  Molieristes 
than  the  great  and  profitable  year  of  Tartuffe  itself. 

Although  the  perennial  comedies  of  Moliere  naturally 
figured  frequently  in  the  bills,  Armande  and  La  Grange 
had  a  keen  eye  for  novelties,  and  did  not  disdain  to  tickle 
the  public  with  melodramas  and  spectacular  plays ;  and 
it  was  from  these  indeed  that  the  theatre  derived  the 
greater  part  of  its  revenue.  Thus  C/'raf,  a  tragedy  by 
Thomas  Corneille,  with  changes  of  scenery,  and  music  by 
Charpentier,  brought  in  24,000  livres  in  nine  perform- 
ances ;  while  the  Devineresse,  a  comic-melodrama,  by  the 
same  playwright  and  Donneau  de  Vise,  on  the  adventures 
of  La  Voisin,  the  poisoner,  was  played  for  forty-seven 
consecutive  nights,  almost  a  record  for  those  days. 
Another  success  was  achieved  when  Thomas  Corneille 
turned  Moliere's  Don  Juan  into  verse,  "eliminating 


THE   WIFE   OF  MOLlfeRE  79 

the  speeches  which  offended  the  scrupulous."  Donneau 
de  Vise,  to  whose  "  puffing  "  in  the  Mercure  the  Theatre 
Guen£gaud  was  probably  indebted  for  not  a  little  of  its 
popularity,  declared  that  in  the  process  of  transition  the 
play  "  had  acquired  new  beauties  without  losing  any  of 
the  old,"  and  though  few  will  be  found  to  agree  with 
this  pronouncement,  the  new  version  proved  exceedingly 
popular. 

The  first  of  the  above-mentioned  plays,  in  which 
Armande  secured  a  great  personal  triumph  in  the  part 
of  the  beautiful  sorceress,  was  associated  with  a  singular 
incident. 

One  evening,  a  well-dressed  man,  who  occupied  a 
seat  upon  the  stage,  approached  the  actress,  as  she  was 
standing  in  the  wings  awaiting  her  turn  to  go  on,  and 
addressed  her  in  the  manner  of  an  ardent  and  favoured 
lover.  "  Never,"  said  he,  "  have  I  seen  you  look  so 
beautiful.  Were  it  not  that  I  am  already  your  slave, 
I  should  be  so  from  this  moment." 

Armande,  who  had  never  seen  the  gentleman  before, 
turned  haughtily  away,  without  making  any  reply.  But 
when  the  play  was  over,  the  stranger  followed  her  to 
her  dressing-room,  and,  having  reproached  her  with  her 
previous  coldness,  inquired  why  she  had  not  kept  an 
appointment  which  she  had  given  him  that  afternoon. 
The  lady,  in  profound  astonishment,  disclaimed  all 
knowledge  of  her  visitor,  and  angrily  ordered  him  to 
leave  the  room.  The  stranger  refused,  insisting  that 
she  had  given  him  "  a  score  of  rendezvous,"  and  de- 
manding how  she  could  have  the  audacity  to  treat  him 
thus  after  such  an  intimacy  as  had  existed  between  them. 
Armande  thereupon  sent  her  maid  to  summon  some  of 
her  colleagues,  who  arrived  to  find  their  leader  and  the 


8o      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

stranger  almost  beside  themselves  with  passion.  As  well 
as  her  outraged  feelings  would  permit,  the  actress  ex- 
plained the  situation  to  her  friends,  declaring  that  she 
had  never  set  eyes  on  the  gentleman  before  her  in  her 
life ;  while  he,  on  his  side,  asserted  in  the  most  positive 
manner  that  he  knew  her  intimately,  and  that  she  had 
repeatedly  met  him  at  a  house  of  somewhat  questionable 
repute.  "  Why,"  cried  he,  "  the  very  necklace  she  is 
now  wearing  is  one  of  the  presents  I  have  made  her ! " 
and  he  snatched  it  from  her.  Armande  immediately 
sent  for  the  guards  attached  to  the  theatre,  who  seized 
the  stranger  and  held  him  until  the  arrival  of  a  commis- 
sary of  police,  when  he  was  conducted  to  prison. 

His  statement  to  the  authorities  served  but  to  deepen 
the  mystery.  It  transpired  that  he  was  a  M.  Lescot,  a 
president  of  the  Parliament  of  Grenoble,  who  was  on  a 
visit  to  Paris.  He  had  fallen  in  love  with  Armande 
after  seeing  her  play  at  the  Theatre  Gu£negaud,  but, 
lacking  courage  to  declare  his  passion  directly,  and 
having  failed  to  secure  an  introduction  in  the  ordinary 
way,  had  had  recourse  to  the  good  offices  of  a  woman 
called  Ledoux,  "  dont  le  metier  ordinaire  etait  de  faire  plaisir 
au  public"  and  promised  her  a  liberal  reward,  if  she  could 
arrange  a  rendezvous.  In  this  she  had  been  successful ; 
Mile.  Moliere  had  accepted  his  proposals,  and  they  had 
met  repeatedly  at  Ledoux's  house.  The  actress  had, 
however,  strictly  forbidden  him,  for  prudential  reasons, 
to  address,  or  even  approach,  her  at  the  theatre,  which 
instructions  he  had  faithfully  observed  until  that  evening, 
when,  as  she  had  failed  to  keep  an  appointment  to  meet 
him  after  dinner,  he  had  determined  to  ascertain  the 
reason,  thinking  that  "  a  little  display  of  passion  "  might 
not  be  altogether  displeasing  to  her.  As  for  the  neck- 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  81 

lace,  which,  it  should  be  mentioned,  was  one  of  a  common 
pattern,  he  had  purchased  it  at  a  jeweller's  shop  on  the 
Quai  des  Orfevres,  the  lady  being  with  him  at  the  time. 
Let  them  question  the  jeweller,  who  would,  no  doubt, 
be  prepared  to  corroborate  his  statement. 

Matters  now  began  to  look  very  unpleasant  for 
Armande,  and  when  the  jeweller  of  the  Quai  des 
Orfevres,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  identified  her 
as  the  lady  who  had  accompanied  the  president  to  his 
shop,  and  Ledoux  was  found  to  have  left  the  city,  she 
was  in  despair.  However,  a  few  days  later  the  affair 
was  cleared  up.  Hunted  down  by  the  police,  Ledoux 
confessed  that  she  had  palmed  off  on  the  credulous 
Lescot  !a  young  woman  called  Tourelle,  who  bore  so 
extraordinary  a  resemblance  to  Mile.  Moliere,  both  in 
appearance  and  voice,  that  it  was  almost  impossible  for 
any  one  not  personally  acquainted  with  the  latter  to  tell 
one  from  the  other,  and  who  had  already  succeeded  in 
duping  quite  a  number  of  persons.  This  woman  was 
also  arrested,  and  a  decree  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
dated  October  17,  1675,  sentenced  the  two  delinquents 
"  to  be  flogged,  naked,  with  rods,  before  the  principal 
gate  of  the  Chatelet  and  the  house  of  Mile.  Moliere," 
and  to  be  afterwards  banished  from  Paris  for  three  years. 
President  Lescot  was  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of  two 
hundred  crowns,  and  to  make  "  verbal  reparation,"  that 
is  to  say,  he  had  to  declare  in  court,  in  the  presence  of 
Mile.  Moliere  and  any  four  persons  whom  she  might 
select,  that  he  had  "raised  his  hand  against  her  and 
used  the  insulting  language  mentioned  in  the  indictment 
through  error  and  inadvertence."  Which  done,  we  may 
presume,  he  lost  no  time  in  returning  to  Grenoble,  a 

sadder  and  a  wiser  man. 

r 


82       QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

"  One  is  struck,"  observes  M.  Larroumet,  "  by  the 
singular  resemblance  that  this  affair  presents  to  that  of 
the  Diamond  Necklace,  which,  in  1785,  involved  the 
name  of  Marie  Antoinette  in  so  resounding  a  scandal. 
After  a  lapse  of  a  hundred  years,  the  same  roles  are 
resumed,  that  of  Armande  by  the  queen,  that  of  the 
entremetteuse  Ledoux  by  the  Comtesse  de  la  Motte,  that 
of  the  woman  Tourelle  by  the  girl  Oliva,  finally,  that  of 
President  Lescot  by  the  Cardinal  de  Rohan.  And  that 
nothing  may  be  wanting  to  the  parallel,  just  as  the 
queen  was  bespattered  by  the  infamous  libel  of  Madame 
de  la  Motte,  Armande  had  to  submit  to  La  Fameuse 
Comedienne. 

Less  than  a  year  afterwards,  Armande  was  the 
victim  of  another  scandal,  even  more  painful  than  the 
one  recorded  above.  The  scoundrelly  Guichard,  the 
attempted  poisoner  of  Lulli,  of  whom  we  have  already 
spoken,  did  not  confine  his  attack  upon  the  widow  of 
Moliere  to  repeating  the  hideous  accusation  of  Mont- 
fleury  :  he  calumniated  her  in  the  most  shameful  manner. 
"The  Moliere,"  he  wrote,  "is  infamous  both  in  law 
(i.e.  by  profession)  and  in  deed.  Previous  to  her  mar- 
riage, she  lived  continually  in  wholesale  prostitution  ; 
during  her  married  life,  continually  in  public  adultery. 
In  short,  the  Moliere  is  the  most  infamous  of  all  infamous 
women."  The  obvious  extravagance  of  these  charges, 
and  the  fact  that  Guichard  assailed  with  equal  violence 
the  characters  of  most  of  the  other  witnesses  for  the 
prosecution,  no  doubt  robbed  them  of  much  of  their 
sting.1  Nevertheless,  they  can  hardly  have  failed  to 

1  Guichard  was  convicted  of  the  charge  of  attempted  poisoning, 
declared  "  infamous,"  and  sentenced  to  the  amende  honorable  and  to  pay 
a  heavy  fine,  while  the  printers  of  the  memoir  in  which  he  had  libelled 


THE   WIFE   OF   MOLlfeRE  83 

occasion  the  unfortunate  woman  great  annoyance,  and, 
following  as  they  did  so  closely  upon  the  affaire  Lescot, 
had  probably  not  a  little  influence  upon  a  step  which 
she  took  some  months  later. 

In  May  1677,  Armande  exchanged  the  glorious 
name  of  Moliere  for  that  of  Guerin  d'Estriche,  one  of 
her  colleagues  of  the  Theatre  Gu£negaud,  and,  in  earlier 
years,  a  member  of  the  now  defunct  Theatre  du  Marais. 
For  this  second  marriage  she  was  severely  blamed  by  her 
contemporaries,1  while  it  is  the  fashion  among  modern 
writers  to  refer  to  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  species  of 
sacrilege.  In  this,  we  are  inclined  to  think,  an  injustice 
had  been  done  Armande.  Moliere,  as  one  of  his  recent 
biographers  reminds  us,  was  not,  during  the  years  which 
followed  his  death,  regarded  as  the  mighty  genius  which 
he  is  now  admitted  to  have  been.  Save  to  a  few,  like 
Boileau,  who  fully  comprehended  the  extent  of  the 
loss  which  literature  had  sustained,  he  was  merely  an 
amusing  actor  and  an  excellent  author,  whose  premature 
death  they  deplored,  but  whom  they  never  dreamed  of 
apotheosizing.2  As  for  Armande,  she  was  still  young 
and  retained  all  her  fascination ;  she  had  not  been  happy 
in  her  first  marriage,  and  may  very  well  have  felt  that 
life  owed  her  some  compensation.  Besides,  a  second 
marriage  would  free  her  from  the  attentions  of  unwelcome 
admirers,  of  whom,  we  may  be  sure,  the  luckless  President 
Lescot  was  only  one  among  many,  and  would  provide 

Armande  and  others  were  also  punished.  He  appealed  against  the 
sentence,  which,  in  the  following  year,  was  quashed,  a  result  undoubtedly 
due  to, the  fact  that  he  had  powerful  protectors  at  Court. 

1  An  epigram  ran  : — 

"  Elle  avoit  un  mari  d'esprit,  qu'elle  aimoit  peu, 
Elle  en  prend  un  de  chair,  qu'elle  aime  d'avantage." 

2  M.  Larroumet,  La  Comedie  de  Afo/iere,  p.  174. 


84      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

her  with  a  counsellor  in  business  matters  whose  interests 
would  be  identical  with  her  own,  and  of  whom  she  must 
have  long  felt  the  need. 

With  Guerin,  Armande  appears  to  have  lived  very 
happily,  and  even  the  author  of  La  Fameuse  Comedienne  is 
compelled  to  recognise  that  her  conduct  was  exemplary, 
though  she  hastens  to  qualify  this  reluctant  admission 
by  declaring  that  her  second  husband  was  a  veritable 
tyrant,  who  brooked  no  opposition  to  his  will  and  did 
not  hesitate  to  enforce  obedience  by  blows.  All  disin- 
terested witnesses,  however,  concur  in  representing  Guerin 
as  an  excellent  man,  and  we  see  no  reason  to  believe 
that  the  anonymous  author  comes  anywhere  nearer  the 
truth  here  than  in  other  portions  of  her  history. 

At  Easter  1679,  Armande  and  La  Grange  succeeded 
in  persuading  the  famous  tragedienne  Mile,  de  Champ- 
mesle,  who  had  been  for  nineteen  years  the  mainstay 
of  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  to  transfer  her  services  to 
the  Theatre  Gu£negaud,  Armande,  with  rare  self-denial, 
ceding  to  the  illustrious  recruit  the  place  which  she 
herself  had  so  long  occupied.  The  defection  of  their 
great  actress  was  a  paralysing  blow  for  the  players  of 
the  Rue  Mauconseil,  and,  coupled  with  the  death  of  La 
Thorilliere,  which  occurred  shortly  afterwards,  rendered 
their  position  so  precarious  that,  by  a  lettre  de  cachet  dated 
October  21,  1680,  Louis  XIV.  directed  that  they  should 
join  forces  with  the  Theatre  Guenegaud;  and  the  Comedie- 
Francaise  was  founded.  Thus,  of  the  three  great  troupes 
in  existence  at  the  time  of  Moliere's  death,  his  own  alone 
survived,  fortified  by  the  ruin  of  their  rivals. 

Armande  continued  her  career  as  an  actress  for  some 
years  longer,  perhaps  her  most  successful  impersonation 
being  that  of  a  young  Italian  girl  in  a  play  called  Le 


THE  WIFE  OF  MOLlfeRE  85 

Parisien,  written  by  the  husband  of  Mile,  de  Champmesle. 
At  the  Easter  recess  of  1694,  she  retired  from  the  stage, 
with  a  pension  of  one  thousand  livres.  From  that  time 
we  hear  but  little  of  her.  She  appears  to  have  lived  a 
very  quiet  and  uneventful  life,  for  the  most  part,  at  a 
charming  country-house  which  she  owned  at  Meudon, 
and  which  still  exists,  very  much  as  the  actress  left  it.1 
She  died  at  Paris,  in  the  Rue  du  Touraine,  on  Novem- 
ber 30,  1 700,  at  the  age  of  fifty-eight. 

Of  Armande's  three  children  by  Moliere  only  one 
survived  their  father,  a  daughter,  Madeleine,  who,  at  the 
age  of  twenty,  much  to  her  mother's  disgust,  eloped  with 
a  M.  de  Montalant,  a  middle-aged  widower  with  several 
children.  Making  a  virtue  of  necessity,  Madame  Guerin 
gave  her  consent  to  her  daughter's  marriage,  and  Made- 
leine and  her  husband  subsequently  resided  at  Auteuil, 
where  the  former  died  in  1723.  She  left  no  children. 

By  Guerin,  Armande  had  a  son,  to  whom  she  seems 
to  have  been  intensely  devoted.  In  1698,  at  the  age  of 
twenty,  this  young  man  published  an  edition  of  the 
Melicerte  of  Moliere,  which  he  had  rendered  into  verse, 
preceded  by  an  introduction,  in  which  he  mentioned  that 
in  the  Guerin  household  the  memory  of  the  dramatist 
was  held  "  in  respect  and  veneration." 

Armande's  death  certificate  naturally  contained  no 
mention  of  the  great  man  whose  name  she  had  once 
borne  and  whose  works  she  had  both  inspired  and  inter- 
preted. Nevertheless,  posterity  has  decided  to  ignore 
her  connection  with  the  worthy  Guerin,  and,  for  us,  she 
must  always  remain  the  "  Wife  of  Moliere." 

1  No.  1 1  Rue  des  Pierres.  See  Ars£ne  Houssaye's  interesting  account 
of  a  visit  paid  to  it,  in  his  beautifully  illustrated  work,  Moliere  ;  safemme 
et  sajille  (Paris:  Dentu,  1880),  p.  129  et  seq. 


II 

MARIE   DE    CHAMPMESLfi 


II 

MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESLE 

"THE  name  of  the  Champmesle  is  inseparable  from  both 
the  immortality  and  the  frailties  of  the  life  of  Racine." 

Marie  Desmares,  the  actress  of  whom  these  words  were 
written,  was  born  at  Rouen,  the  birthplace  of  the  two 
Corneilles  and  other  prominent  figures  in  the  dramatic 
history  of  the  seventeenth  century,  in  February  1642. 
Her  father,  Guillaume  Desmares,  though  not,  as  several 
biographical  dictionaries  and  works  of  reference  state, 
the  son  of  a  President  of  the  Parliament  of  Normandy, 
appears  to  have  been  a  person  of  some  social  position, 
as  his  name  is  preceded  by  a  Monsieur,  a  title  which  in 
those  days  was  generally  confined  to  the  noblesse  and 
professional  classes,  while  her  mother,  Marie  Marc,  was 
also  respectably  connected,  one  of  her  brothers  being  an 
official  of  the  Parliament. 

Of  Marie's  childhood  and  youth  we  know  scarcely 
anything.  In  1653  she  lost  her  father,  very  probably 
in  an  epidemic  which  broke  out  at  Rouen  that  year ; 
and,  not  long  afterwards,  her  mother  married  again, 
her  second  husband  being  one  Antoine  La  Gu6rault  or 
Lagu£rault,  a  well-to-do  landed  proprietor  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. The  girl  and  her  brother  Nicolas,  who 
was  also  to  achieve  distinction  on  the  boards,  seem  to 
have  received  a  fair  education ;  but,  either  because  she 

1  Paul  Foucher,  Les  Coulisses  du  Passe. 

89 


90      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

was  unhappy  in  the  home  of  her  stepfather,  or  because 
she  saw  but  little  chance  of  the  indispensable  dot  being 
forthcoming,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three,  Marie  decided 
to  tempt  fortune  on  the  stage. 

At  this  period,  there  was  no  regular  theatre  at  Rouen; 
indeed,  buildings  reserved  exclusively  for  dramatic  per- 
formances were  hardly  known  outside  the  capital.  There 
were,  however,  two  large  tennis-courts,  one  situated  in 
the  Rue  des  Charrettes,  the  other  in  the  Rue  Saint-Eloi, 
the  proprietors  of  which  were  always  ready,  at  a  few 
hours*  notice,  to  convert  them  into  temples  of  Thespis 
for  the  accommodation  of  any  travelling  company  which 
happened  to  be  visiting  the  town.  M.  Noury,  the 
lady's  latest  biographer,  thinks  that  it  was  in  the  second 
of  these,  called  the  Jen  de  Paume  des  Braques,  where 
Moliere's  troupe  had  played  in  1643,  and  again  in  1658, 
that  Marie  Desmares  made  her  dlbut. 

By  Marie's  side,  a  young  actor  from  Paris,  Charles 
Chevillet  by  name,  made  his  bow  to  the  public.  This 
young  man,  who  was  a  few  months  younger  than  his 
fair  colleague,  was  the  son  of  a  worthy  silk-merchant 
of  the  Rue  Saint-Honore.1  Chevillet  pere,  being  of 
a  practical  turn  of  mind,  had  endeavoured  to  inspire 
his  son  with  a  taste  for  his  own  trade.  But,  as  ill-luck 
would  have  it,  the  theatre  of  the  Petit-Bourbon,  where 
Moliere's  troupe  was  then  established,  was  situated 
within  easy  distance  of  his  shop,  and,  after  attending 
the  performances  for  some  little  time,  Charles  came 

1  And  not  of  a  marchana  des  rubans,  of  the  Pont-au- Change,  as  «o 
many  writers  state,  so  that  the  epigram  of  Le  Noble : — 

" Tu  les  as  mesure  sans  doute  [tes  vers]  a  1'aune  antique 
Dont  jadis  ton  papa  mesurant  ses  rubans," 

loses  its  point. 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£  9i 

to  the  conclusion  that  measuring  and  matching  silks 
was  altogether  too  prosaic  a  calling  for  him.  Accord- 
ingly, one  fine  day  he  disappeared  from  Paris  and 
made  his  way  to  Rouen,  where,  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  time,  in  mounting  the  boards,  he  added  to  his 
own  patronymic  an  aristocratic  pseudonym,  and  became 
Charles  Chevillet,  Sieur  de  Champmesl6. 

M.  de  Champmesl6,  who  is  described  as  "  a  hand- 
some man,  with  a  distinguished  air  and  extremely 
polished  manners,"  "witty  and  possessed  of  all  that  is 
required  to  please  and  to  command  love,"  made  a  very 
favourable  impression  upon  Mile.  Desmares.  He,  on 
his  side,  admired  her  greatly,  and  very  possibly  foresaw 
something  of  the  great  career  which  awaited  her.  They, 
therefore,  determined  to  share  each  other's  fortunes,  and 
the  young  man,  having  paid  a  visit  to  Paris  to  obtain 
his  parents'  consent,  they  were  married  on  January  9, 
1666,  at  the  church  of  Saint-Eloi,  at  Rouen. 

In  view  of  what  we  have  already  said  about  the 
practice  of  the  Church  in  regard  to  the  theatrical  pro- 
fession, it  is  not  without  interest  to  note  that  the  acte  de 
mariage  states  that  the  parties  "  practised  the  vocation  of 
players,"  and  that  the  banns  had  been  published,  "notwith- 
standing the  fact  that  they  had  no  intention  of  abandon- 
ing the  exercise  of  their  profession  at  lawful  times." 

The  young  couple  continued  playing  in  Rouen  and 
the  neighbourhood  until  the  summer  of  1668,  when, 
alarmed,  apparently  by  the  plague,  which  was  devas- 
tating Normandy,  they  removed  to  Paris.  Here  Champ- 
mesl£,  who  was  by  this  time  a  very  capable  actor,  was 
soon  invited  to  join  the  company  of  the  Theatre  du 
Marais;  and,  at  the  beginning  of  the  following  year,  his 
wife  was  offered  a  place  in  the  same  troupe. 


92       QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Mile,  de  Champmesle  made  her  first  appearance  on 
the  Paris  stage  on  February  15,  1669,  in  La  Ffae  de 
Wnus,  an  insipid  pastoral,  by  the  Abbe  Boyer,  in  which 
she  impersonated  the  goddess  and  was  much  applauded. 
In  the  early  months  of  1670  she  secured  two  other 
triumphs.  The  first  was  in  an  "  heroic  comedy,"  called 
Polycrate,  also  by  Boyer ;  and  it  spoke  volumes  for  the 
talent  and  charm  of  the  young  actress  that  the  audience 
should  have  been  content  to  sit  through  and  applaud 
five  acts  of  what  appears  to  have  been  an  almost  worth- 
less play.  Her  second  success  was  gained  in  Les  Amours 
de  Vtnus  et  Adonis,  a  tragedy  by  Donneau  de  Vise,  in 
which  she  again  represented  the  goddess,  and  Robinet 
chanted  her  praises  : — 

"  La  belle  d£esse  V£nus, 
Et  dans  ce  role  cette  actrice 
Est  une  parfaite  enchantrice." 

But  Mile,  de  Champmesle  was  but  half  satisfied  with 
such  successes.  She  was  ambitious,  and  felt  that  at 
the  Marais  her  talents  had  not  sufficient  scope.  The 
old  theatre,  as  we  have  said  elsewhere,  had  now  fallen 
on  evil  days ;  the  pieces  represented  there  seemed  sorry 
stuff  indeed  in  comparison  with  the  comedies  of  Moliere 
and  the  tragedies  of  Racine ;  it  was  the  Palais-Royal 
and  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  which  divided  the  suffrages 
of  the  playgoing  public ;  the  salle  in  the  Rue  Vieille-du- 
Temple  was  at  times  well-nigh  deserted.  She  knew 
that  her  true  vocation  was  in  tragedy ;  not  in  tragedy 
such  as  the  third-class  dramatists  who  wrote  for  the 
Theatre  du  Marais  penned,  but  in  plays  like  the  Cid 
and  Polyeucte,  Alexandre  and  Andromaque.  On  first 
arriving  in  Paris,  she  had  had  the  good  sense  to 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  93 

recognise  that  her  talents  were  as  yet  insufficiently 
developed  to  allow  of  her  attempting  the  great  roles 
of  Corneille  and  Racine ;  but  now  circumstances  had 
changed.  Her  acting  had  had  the  good  fortune  to 
attract  the  attention  of  a  member  of  the  Marais  troupe 
named  Laroque,  whose  acquaintance  she  had  made  at 
Rouen.  Laroque,  as  is  not  infrequently  the  case, 
though  only  a  moderate  performer,  was  an  admirable 
instructor ;  and,  perceiving  in  his  young  colleague  great 
possibilities,  had  devoted  much  time  and  care  to  per- 
fecting her  in  her  art,  and  with  the  happiest  results. 
Accordingly,  at  Easter  1770,  Mile.  Champmesl£  and 
her  husband  quitted  the  Rue  Vieille-du-Temple  for 
the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne.  "  Here  she  met  Racine  and 
glory." 

The  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  reopened  after  the  Easter 
recess  with  a  revival  of  Racine's  Andromaque,  which 
three  years  before  had  aroused  an  enthusiasm  the  like  of 
which  had  not  been  witnessed  since  the  days  of  the  Cid. 
The  part  of  Hermione  was  to  have  been  taken  by  Mile. 
Des  QEillets,  who  had  created  it ;  but  she  was  lying  ill 
of  a  malady  from  which  she  died  not  long  afterwards, 
and  it  was  in  consequence  decided  to  entrust  it  to  Mile. 
Champmesl6.  Racine,  who  knew  nothing  of  the  new 
recruit,  and  feared  that  such  a  difficult  role  might  suffer 
in  the  hands  of  an  actress  who  had  never  interpreted 
anything  more  important  than  the  insipid  heroines  of 
Boyer  and  Vise,  refused  at  first  to  attend  the  per- 
formance, and,  though  he  ultimately  consented  to  be 
present,  did  so  with  evident  reluctance.  His  appre- 
hensions were  groundless.  "  Mile,  de  Champmesle's 
rendering  of  the  first  two  acts  was  very  weak,"  relates 
the  Abbe  de  Laporte  in  his  Annales  dramatiques.  These 


94      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

acts,  where  Hermione  is  in  turn  attracted  and  repelled 
by  Pyrrhus,  require  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  stage 
and  great  finesse.  But  in  the  last  acts,  where  she  is  a 
frenzied  lover,  with  whom  jealousy  carries  all  before  it 
and  to  whom  a  supreme  betrayal  leaves  nothing  but 
vengeance  to  live  for,  she  retrieved  her  ground  so  com- 
pletely, threw  so  much  fire  into  her  acting,  and  rendered 
the  passions  with  such  real  fervour  that  she  was  enthusi- 
astically applauded." 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  play,  Racine,  enraptured 
with  the  young  actress's  rendering  of  his  heroine, 
hurried  to  her  dressing-room,  and,  falling  on  his  knees, 
overwhelmed  her  with  compliments  and  thanks.  A  few 
days  later,  Mile.  Des  CEillets  was  sufficiently  recovered 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  theatre  to  witness  the  performance 
of  the  new  star  ;  and,  when  the  curtain  fell,  was  seen 
to  throw  up  her  hands  and  exclaim  sorrowfully : 
"  Des  CEillets  is  no  more  ! " — words  which,  coming 
from  an  actress  who  sees  herself  dethroned  by  an  under- 
study, are  more  eloquent  than  the  most  exhaustive 
commentary. 

Overjoyed  at  finding  that  such  an  actress  had  arisen, 
Racine  gave  his  new  interpreter  lessons  in  elocution,  "  at 
the  same  time  studying  her  natural  peculiarities,  with  a 
view  to  making  them  serviceable  in  any  character  he 
might  wish  her  to  represent."  According  to  the  poet's 
son,  Louis  Racine,  Mile,  de  Champmesle  owed  her  sub- 
sequent successes  entirely  to  his  father's  teaching.  "  As 
he  had  formed  Baron,"  he  says,  "  he  formed  the  Champ- 
mesle, but  with  far  more  trouble.  He  made  her  under- 
stand the  verses  which  she  had  to  recite,  showed  her  the 
gestures  which  were  appropriate  to  each  passage,  and 
dictated  to  her  the  emphasis  which  she  must  employ." 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£  95 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Mile,  de  Champmesle  owed 
much  to  Racine's  tuition,  but  it  is  equally  certain  thai; 
she  had  great  natural  gifts  as  an  actress,  the  chief  of 
which  were  a  peculiar  grace  of  movement  and  the 
greatest  of  all  theatrical  seductions,  a  most  enchanting 
voice,  which  moved  La  Fontaine  to  write : — 

"  Est-il  quelqu'un  que  votre  voix  n'enchante  ? 
S'en  trouve-t-il  une  aussi  touchante, 
Un  autre  allant  si  droit  au  coeur  ? " 

The  flexibility  of  her  voice  appears  to  have  been 
quite  extraordinary.  Melodious,  soft,  and  caressing  in 
roles  like  Iphig£nie  or  Monime,  it  became  so  powerful 
and  sonorous  in  such  parts  as  Phedre,  Roxane,  and 
Hermione  that,  it  is  said,  when  the  door  of  the  box  at 
the  end  of  the  salle  happened  to  be  open,  it  could  be 
heard  at  the  Cafe  Procope,  over  the  way.  "  The  recita- 
tion of  actors  in  tragedy,"  says  the  anonymous  author 
of  the  Entretiens  galants^  "  is  a  kind  of  chant,  and  you 
will  readily  admit  that  the  Champmesle  would  not  please 
you  so  much,  if  her  voice  were  less  agreeable.  But  she 
has  learned  to  modulate  it  with  so  much  skill,  and  she 
lends  to  her  words  such  natural  tones,  that  it  would 
seem  that  she  really  has  in  her  heart  the  passions  she 
expresses  with  her  mouth."  In  pathetic  passages,  we 
are  told,  she  drew  tears  from  the  eyes  of  the  most 
hardened  playgoers.  "  It  was  amusing  to  watch  the 
ladies  sighing  and  drying  their  eyes  and  the  men  laugh- 
ing at  them,  while  they  themselves  were  hard  put  to 
restrain  their  emotion." 

There  seems  to  be  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to 
whether  Mile,  de  Champmesl£  was  strictly  beautiful. 
According  to  the  Brothers  Parfaict,  "  her  skin  was  not 


96       QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

clear,  and  her  eyes  were  very  small  and  round."  On  the 
other  hand,  she  was  "  of  a  fine  shape,  well  made  and 
noble,"  and  "  her  defects  were,  so  to  speak,  counter- 
balanced by  the  natural  graces  spread  over  her  whole 
person."  Louis  Racine,  though  he  denies  her  talent, 
admits  that  she  was  handsome  ;  while  Madame  de 
Sevign6  tells  us  that  she  was  "  almost  plain,"  but 
"  adorable  upon  the  stage."  However  that  may  be,  she 
did  not  lack  for  admirers,  and  Racine,  who,  two  years 
before,  had  lost  his  mistress,  the  beautiful  Mile,  du  Pare 
— the  actress  who  had  in  turn  rejected  the  addresses  of 
Moliere,  Pierre  Corneille,  and  La  Fontaine — speedily  fell 
in  love  with  her,  and  installed  her  in  the  vacant  place 
in  his  affections,  M.  de  Champmesle  accepting  his  dis- 
honour with  fashionable  complacency.  Henceforth,  as 
Moliere  had  written  for  his  wife,  Racine  wrote  for  his 
mistress,  who  created  all  his  great  heroines,  and  "  invest- 
ing them  with  her  own  charm,  became  in  truth  the 
collaboratrice  of  the  poet." 

"  Bdnissons  de  1'amour  1'influence  divine, 
C'est  a  toi,  Champmesle,  que  nous  devons  Racine, 
II  £crivait  pour  toi,  de  t&  plaire  occupd, 
Son  vers  coulait  plus  doux  de  son  coeur  6chappe." 

In  the  early  spring  of  1670,  Louis  XIV. 's  sister-in- 
law,  the  ill-fated  Henrietta  of  England,  daughter  of 
Charles  I.,  persuaded  Corneille  and  Racine  to  write  each 
a  tragedy  on  the  story  of  Titus  and  Berenice,  without 
each  other's  knowledge,  and  consequently  without  the 
knowledge  of  any  one  else.  Her  object  in  so  doing  was, 
in  all  probability,  merely  to  bring  the  relative  merits 
of  the  two  great  dramaists  to  a  decisive  test,  though 
rumour  assigned  a  romantic  reason  for  her  choice  of  the 


/.V     .i.-in.'   'iff    f/i'rr/fi-    </rt>i.t  tt,<   iti'M 

[',•'(••  iinAit   hind  tins    <'•>•>:•' 

'  n**ft+>> 


JEAN   RACINE 
From  an  engraving  by  VERTUE 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  97 

subject,  to  wit,  a  desire  to  see  upon  the  stage  a  little 
story  analogous  to  that  of  her  one-time  relations  with 
Louis  XIV.  Madamis  death,  famous  for  its  disputed 
causes  and  Bossuet's  funeral  oration,  occurred  in  the 
following  June ;  but  this  did  not  interfere  with  the  com- 
pletion of  the  plays,  which  were  produced  within  a  few 
days  of  one  another,  the  secret  having  been  so  well  kept 
that  until  then  neither  of  the  poets  had  the  faintest 
conception  that  they  had  been  simultaneously  engaged 
on  the  same  subject. 

Racine  was  the  first  in  the  field,  his  Berenice  being 
produced  at  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  on  November  21, 
Floridor  playing  Titus,  and  Mile,  de  Champmesl6  the 
beautiful  Jewess.  Corneille's  Tite  et  Berenice  appeared 
at  the  Palais-Royal,  eight  days  later,  with  La  Thorilliere 
and  Mile.  Moliere  in  the  title-parts. 

The  result  of  the  duel  to  which  the  two  dramatists 
found  themselves,  all  unwittingly,  committed  was  wholly 
in  favour  of  the  younger,  Corneille's  play,  notwithstanding 
some  fine  passages,  being  unworthy  of  his  reputation.1 
It  was  probably  to  this  fact  and  to  the  admirable  acting 
of  Mile,  de  Champmesl6,  rather  than  to  any  special 
merits  of  his  own,  that  Racine  was  indebted  for  his  easy 
triumph.  Approved  by  the  king  and  applauded  by  the 
public,  his  Berenice  remained  in  the  bills  until  after  the 
thirtieth  performance ;  but  it  did  not  please  the  critics, 
Boileau  declaring  that  had  he  been  consulted  he  would 
have  endeavoured  to  dissuade  his  friend  from  under- 

1  It  was  performed  twenty-one  times,  and  the  average  receipts  were 
680  livres.  But  for  twenty-four  representations  of  Moli£re's  comedy, 
the  Bourgeois  gentilhomme,  which  was  played  concurrently  with  Tite  et 
Berenice,  the  average  takings  were  1000  livres.  Corneille  received  2000 
livres  for  his  play,  the  same  amount  as  Moliere  had  paid  him  for  Att'tla. 

G 


9  8       QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

taking  so  poor  a  theme ;  while  Chapelle,  when  asked 
by  Racine  for  his  opinion,  replied  in  two  verses  of  an 
old  song  : — 

"  Marion  pleure,  Marion  crie, 
Marion  veut  qu'on  la  marie." 

An  answer  which  nearly  caused  a  quarrel  between  him 
and  the  poet. 

To  Btrtnice,  early  in  the  following  January,  suc- 
ceeded Baiazef,  Mile,  de  Champmesle  playing  the  part 
of  Roxane.  Madame  de  Sevign6  attended  the  fifth 
performance,  and  next  day  writes  to  Madame  de 
Grignan  :  "  We  have  been  to  see  the  new  play  by 
Racine,  and  thought  it  admirable.  My  daughter-in-law1 
is,  in  my  opinion,  the  best  performer  I  ever  saw.  She 
is  a  hundred  leagues  in  front  of  Des  CEillets,  and  I, 
who  am  supposed  to  have  some  talent  for  acting,  am 
not  worthy  to  light  the  candles  when  she  appears.  .  .  . 
I  wish  you  had  been  with  me  that  afternoon  ;  I  am 
sure  you  would  not  have  thought  your  time  ill  spent. 
You  would  have  dropped  a  tear  or  two,  for  I  myself 
shed  twenty ;  besides,  you  would  have  greatly  admired 
your  sister-in-law."  Bajazet  printed,  the  Marchioness 
sent  her  daughter  a  copy  :  "  If  I  could  send  Champ- 
mesle with  it,  you  would  find  the  tragedy  among  the 
best ;  without  her,  it  loses  half  its  value.  Racine's  plays 
are  written  for  Champmesle,  and  not  for  posterity. 
Whenever  he  grows  old  and  ceases  to  be  in  love,  it 
will  be  seen  whether  or  not  I  am  mistaken.*'8 

Mile,  de  Champmesle  did  not  by  any  means  confine 
her  creations  to  her  lover's  heroines ;  the  repertoire  of 

1  Seep.  1 08  infra.  2  Letter  of  January  13,  1673 

8  Letter  of  March  1673. 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£  99 

the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  was  a  rich  one.  Thus,  in 
March  of  that  same  year,  she  appeared  in  the  title- 
part  in  Ariane,  a  new  tragedy  by  her  fellow-townsman, 
Thomas  Corneille.  This  play  was  praised  by  some 
critics,  but,  in  all  probability,  owed  its  success  almost 
entirely  to  her  impersonation  of  the  heroine,  "  which 
drew  the  public  as  the  light  draws  the  moth."  Madame 
de  Sevign£  was  again  among  the  audience,  and  wrote  of 
the  actress  in  terms  of  enthusiasm  :  "  The  Champmesle 
is  something  so  extraordinary  that  in  your  life  you  never 
saw  any  one  like  her.  It  is  the  actress  that  people  flock 
to  see,  not  the  play.  I  went  to  Ariane  entirely  for  the 
sake  of  seeing  her.  The  tragedy  is  insipid  ;  the  rest 
of  the  players  wretched.  But  when  the  Champmesle 
appears,  every  one  is  enthralled,  and  the  tears  of  the 
audience  flow  at  her  despair."  l 

When,  seven  years  later,  Mile,  de  Champmesle 
migrated  to  the  Th64tre  Guenegaud,  it  was  in  Ariane 
that  she  secured  her  first  triumph.  "  Ariane"  wrote 
Donneau  de  Vise  in  the  Mercure,  "  has  been  extremely 
well  attended.  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  that  inimitable 
actress,  has  drawn  tears  from  the  majority  of  the  audi- 
ence." The  natural  manner  of  her  acting  and  her 
pathetic  rendering  of  the  hapless  heroine  gave  indeed 
to  the  play  a  new  lease  of  life. 

Another  brilliant  success  awaited  her  in  the  part  of 
Monime,  in  Racine's  Mithridate,  produced  on  January 
13,  1673,  the  day  after  its  author's  reception  at  the 
Academy.  The  play  was  received  with  enthusiasm ; 
and  Madame  de  Coulanges  wrote  to  Madame  de  Sevigne, 
then  on  a  visit  to  her  daughter,  in  Provence :  "  Mithri- 
date  is  charming  ;  you  see  it  thirty  times,  and  the  thirtieth 
1  Letter  of  April  1673. 


ioo      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

it  seems  finer  than  the  first."  On  March  4,  it  was 
played  at  Saint-Cloud,  before  Monsieur  (the  Due 
d'Orleans),  the  Duke  of  Monmouth,  Madame  de  Guise, 
the  Princesse  de  Monaco,  and  other  distinguished  per- 
sons ;  and,  in  the  following  August,  at  Saint-Ouen, 
where  Boisfranc,  Surintendant  des  Finances  to  Monsieur, 
was  entertaining  a  party  from  the  Court.  For  her  role, 
which  was  a  most  exacting  one — Mile.  Clairon  con- 
fesses in  her  Mdmoires,  that  she  had  never  succeeded  in 
playing  it  entirely  to  her  satisfaction — Mile,  de  Champ- 
mesle appears  to  have  received  very  careful  instruction 
from  Racine ;  and  the  critics  were  agreed  that  seldom 
had  anything  more  expressive  and  charming  than  her 
acting  been  seen.  She  was  particularly  admirable  in  the 
scene  in  the  third  act,  where  Monime  inadvertently  con- 
fesses to  the  jealous  Mithridate  her  love  for  his  son 
Xiphanes.  "  Her  cry  of  anguish  when  she  sees  that  she 
has  betrayed  the  secret  of  her  heart,  sent  a  shudder 
through  every  vein  of  the  spectators  and  transported  them 
with  emotion."  Brossette  tells  us  that  one  day,  when 
dining  with  Boileau,  the  conversation  turned  on  the 
subject  of  declamation,  whereupon  the  poet  repeated 
this  passage  in  the  tone  of  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  as 
a  perfect  example  of  the  art. 

While  Mile,  de  Champmesle  continued  her  successes, 
Racine  completed  his  eighth  tragedy,  Iphigdnie  en  Aulide^ 
which  was  produced  at  Versailles  (August  17,  1674),  on 
the  occasion  of  the  magnificent  divertissements  which 
Louis  XIV.  gave  to  his  Court  on  his  return  from  the 
conquest  of  Franche-Comte.  This  time  the  perform- 
ance was  given  in  the  open  air,  in  the  gardens  of  the 
chateau.  "The  scenery,"  says  Andre  Felibien,  in  his 
1  Letter  of  February  24,  1673. 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£          101 

account  of  the  fe"tes,  "  represented  a  long  alley  of  ver- 
dure ;  on  either  side  were  the  basins  of  fountains,  and, 
at  intervals,  grottoes  of  rustic  workmanship,  but  very 
delicately  finished.  On  their  entablature  rose  a  balus- 
trade, on  which  were  arranged  vases  of  porcelain  filled 
with  flowers.  The  basins  of  the  fountains  were  of  white 
marble  supported  by  gilded  tritons,  and  in  these  basins 
one  saw  others  of  greater  height,  which  bore  tall  statues 
of  gold.  The  alley  terminated  at  the  back  of  the 
theatre  in  awnings,  which  were  connected  with  those 
covering  the  orchestra,  and  beyond  appeared  a  long 
alley,  which  was  the  alley  of  the  Orangery  itself, 
bordered  on  both  sides  by  tall  orange-  and  pomegranate- 
trees,  interspersed  with  several  vases  of  porcelain  con- 
taining various  kinds  of  flowers.  Between  each  tree  were 
large  candelabra  and  stands  of  gold  and  azure,  which 
supported  girandoles  of  crystal  lighted  by  several  candles. 
This  alley  terminated  in  a  marble  portico ;  the  pilasters 
which  supported  the  cornice  were  of  lapis,  and  the  door 
was  all  of  gold  work." 1 

In  writing  Iphigfaie,  Racine  had  departed  considerably 
from  his  Greek  model,  discarding  the  catastrophe  in 
favour  of  the  legend  as  recorded  by  Pausanias,  wherein 
it  is  discovered,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  that  not  the 
daughter  of  Agamemnon  and  Clytemnestra,  but  another 
princess  is  the  victim  intended  by  the  gods.  Inferior 
to  the  noble  tragedy  of  Euripides,  the  play  was, 
nevertheless,  generally  acknowledged  to  be  an  advance 
on  anything  that  Racine  had  yet  attempted,  and 

1  Les  divertissements  de  Versailles  donnez  par  le  roy  a  toute  sa  cour,  au 
retour  de  la  conquests  de  la  Franche-Comte,  en  Vannee  1674  :  Paris,  1676, 
folio.  A  copy  of  this  very  rare  and  valuable  work,  with  its  beautiful  engrav- 
ings by  La  Paute  and  Chaviveau,  is  in  the  possession  of  the  British  Museum. 


102      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

was  a  brilliant  and  unanimous  success ;  a  success  of 
emotion,  to  which  Mile,  de  Champmesle's  pathetic 
impersonation  of  the  young  Greek  virgin  probably  con- 
tributed as  much  as  the  subject  itself,  and  inspired 
Boileau  to  the  lines : — 

"Jamais  Iphig^nie  en  Aulide  immol^e, 
N'a  cont£  tant  de  pleurs  a  la  Grece  assemble, 
Que  dans  1'heureux  spectacle  a  nos  yeux  6tal6 
En  a  fait,  sous  son  nom,  verser  la  Champme'leV 

The  capital  witnessed  the  new  play  in  the  early  days 
of  January  1675,  and  confirmed  the  judgment  of  the 
Court :  indeed,  for  once,  criticism  appears  to  have  been 
almost  silenced,  and  the  worst  that  Barbier  d'Aucour,  a 
bitter  detractor  of  the  poet,  could  find  to  say,  was  that 
Iphigtnie  had  caused  a  rise  in  the  price  of  handkerchiefs. 

After  Iphigtnie,  Mile,  de  Champmesl£  became  the 
idol  of  the  playgoing  public,  and  "all  Paris"  flocked 
to  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  seemingly  indifferent  to  the 
bill,  provided  they  could  see  the  now  famous  actress. 
For  nearly  two  years,  however,  no  role  at  all  commen- 
surate with  her  abilities  appears  to  have  fallen  to  her  lot ; 
for  Racine  was  at  work  on  a  new  tragedy,  which,  had 
he  never  written  anything  else,  would  have  sufficed  to 
ensure  him  a  high  place  among  tragic  dramatists.  The 
story  goes  that  one  day,  in  Madame  La  Fayette's  salon, 
Racine  contended  that  it  was  within  the  power  of  a  great 
poet  to  make  the  darkest  crimes  appear  more  or  less  ex- 
cusable— nay,  to  arouse  compassion  for  the  criminals  them- 
selves. In  his  opinion,  even  Medea  and  Phasdra  might 
become  objects  of  pity  rather  than  abhorrence  upon  the 
stage.  From  this  view  his  hearers  dissented  strongly, 
showing  indeed  some  inclination  to  turn  it  into  ridicule ; 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  103 

whereupon,  in  order  to  convince  them  of  their  error, 
the  dramatist  determined  to  measure  his  strength  once 
more  against  that  of  Euripides,  and  to  make  the  fatal 
passion  of  Phaedra  for  her  stepson  the  subject  of  a 
tragedy.1 

But  alas  !  Phldre  et  Hippolyte  was  not  destined  to  take 
its  place  as  the  greatest  tragedy  of  the  French  classical 
school  without  bringing  cruel  mortification  to  its  author. 
Racine,  by  his  success,  had  made  many  enemies  and 
many  more  by  the  caustic  wit  which  he  was  in  the  habit 
of  exercising  at  the  expense  of  any  one  who  happened 
to  incur  his  displeasure.  Among  those  whom  he  had 
contrived  to  offend  were  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  the 
fourth  of  the  famous  Mancini  sisters,  and  Madame 
Deshoulieres,  a  clever  but  pretentious  poetess,  whose 
verses  Racine  had,  perhaps  unduly,  depreciated.  No 
sooner  did  the  two  ladies  in  question  ascertain  the 
subject  of  the  forthcoming  play  than  they  engaged  a 
young  and  conceited  poet  named  Pradon,  author  of  a 
couple  of  indifferent  tragedies,  to  enter  the  lists  against 
the  famous  dramatist  and  compose  a  rival  Phedre,  to 
be  produced  at  the  Theatre  Gudndgaud  simultaneously 
with  the  appearance  of  Racine's  at  the  Hotel  de  Bour- 
gogne.  Pradon  had  only  three  months  allowed  him ; 
but,  nothing  daunted,  he  set  to  work  and  completed  his 
task  within  the  allotted  time  and  to  his  own  entire 
satisfaction.  In  his  vanity,  he  made  no  secret  of  his 
intention  of  measuring  swords  with  Racine ;  and  Boileau 
represented  to  his  friend  that  it  would  be  more  in  keeping 
with  his  dignity  to  decline  the  challenge  and  postpone 
the  production  of  his  play.  But  the  latter,  stung  to  the 

1  Hawkins,  "Annals  of  the  French  Stage,"  ii.  116. 


io4      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

quick  by  the  conspiracy  which  had  been  formed  against 
him,  and  urged  on  by  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  "  who  had 
learned  her  part  and  wanted  money,"  decided  that  it 
should  appear  on  the  date  originally  fixed. 

The  play  was  accordingly  produced  on  New  Year's 
Day  1677,  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  of  course,  impersonat- 
ing the  heroine.  Pradon's  tragedy  was  to  have  appeared 
on  the  same  evening  ;  but  the  difficulty  of  finding  an  actress 
willing  to  undertake  the  principal  role — it  was  refused 
by  both  Mile,  de  Brie  and  Mile.  Moliere — necessitated 
a  postponement  of  two  days,  when  Mile,  du  Pin,  a 
capable,  but  by  no  means  brilliant,  performer,  played 
Phedre.  Pradon  ascribed  the  refusals  of  the  two  leading 
actresses  of  the  company  to  the  machinations  of  Racine 
and  his  friends ;  but,  though  Racine  was  certainly  not 
over-scrupulous  in  his  dealings  with  his  professional 
rivals,  it  is  more  probable  that  the  ladies  in  question 
were,  not  unnaturally,  reluctant  to  challenge  comparison 
with  the  all-conquering  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  in  a 
part  which  was  obviously  so  much  better  suited  to  her 
talents  than  to  theirs. 

All  went  well  at  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  the 
first  evening.  M.  de  Champmesle  himself  took  posses- 
sion of  the  box-office,  and  when  any  of  the  leaders  of 
the  rival  faction  appeared,  courteously  informed  them 
that  every  seat  in  the  front  part  of  the  house  was  already 
occupied ;  the  result  being  that  Racine's  admirers  had 
the  theatre  to  themselves,  and  the  play  was  accorded 
a  reception  which  could  not  fail  to  satisfy  the  most 
exacting  dramatist.  The  following  evening,  however, 
matters  were  very  different ;  to  the  chagrin  of  the  author 
and  the  astonishment  of  the  company,  every  box  on  the 
first  tier  was  empty !  The  same  thing  occurred  the 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  105 

next  evening  and  the  next  after  that,  while,  to  increase 
the  mystery  and  the  poet's  mortification,  the  boxes  at 
the  Theatre  Guen^gaud  were  reported  as  crowded  with 
applauding  spectators.  The  explanation  was  that  the 
Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  in  her  determination  to  secure 
the  success  of  her  prottgfs  play  and  the  ruin  of  her 
enemy's,  had  adopted  the  ingenious  device  of  engaging 
in  advance  all  the  front  seats  at  both  houses,  filling  those 
at  the  Theatre  Guenegaud  with  her  friends  and  leaving 
the  others  empty. 

Racine  was  in  despair;  for  that  not  inconsiderable 
section  of  the  public  which  judges  of  the  merits  of  a 
play  solely  by  results  was  beginning  to  declare  that  his 
tragedy  was  a  complete  failure  and  Pradon's  a  brilliant 
success.  After,  however,  the  trick  had  been  played  for 
three  more  nights,  he  triumphed.  Perhaps  Madame  de 
Bouillon  had  begun  to  find  her  amusement,  which  is  said 
to  have  cost  her  15,000  francs,  the  equivalent  of  five 
times  as  much  to-day,  somewhat  too  costly  a  one ;  or 
possibly  Racine,  discovering  the  tactics  of  his  enemies, 
had  appealed  to  the  king  for  protection,  and  the  duchess 
had  received  a  hint  from  his  Majesty  that  such  practices 
were  highly  displeasing  to  him.  Any  way,  the  lady 
retired  from  the  field,  and,  with  her  withdrawal,  the  rival 
Phtdres  speedily  found  their  respective  levels.  Never- 
theless, in  spite  of  his  ultimate  success,  Racine  never 
forgot  the  mortification  to  which  he  had  been  subjected, 
and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  had  not  a  little 
to  do  with  his  decision  to  renounce  writing  for  the 
stage. 

When  Phedre  was  played  before  the  Court,  Mile,  de 
Champmesl6,  fearing  that  Madame  de  Montespan  might 
take  the  lines  afterwards  addressed  on  a  memorable 


io6      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

occasion   by  Adrienne  Lecouvrier   to  the   Duchesse  de 

Bouillon : — 

"  Je  suis  mes  perfidies 

CEnone,  et  ne  suis  pas  de  ces  femmes  hardies 
Qui,  goutant  dans  la  crime  une  tranquille  paix, 
Ont  su  se  faire  un  front  qui  ne  rougit  jamais  " — 

to  apply  to  herself,  begged  Racine  to  alter  or  erase  them. 
The  poet,  however,  though  he  yielded  the  palm  to  no 
one  as  a  flatterer  of  royalty,  and  was,  moreover,  under 
considerable  obligations  to  the  king's  mistress,  indig- 
nantly refused  to  mutilate  his  play.  Several  of  those 
present  remarked  upon  the  verses ;  but  Madame  de 
Montespan  had  too  much  good  sense  to  complain. 

As  Phedre,  the  declamation  of  which,  according  to 
the  Abbe  du  Bois,  Racine  "  had  taught  her  verse  by 
verse,"  Mile,  de  Champmesle  seems  to  have  put  the 
comble  upon  her  fame  as  a  tragedienne.  Of  all  her 
creations,  it  is  the  one  that  La  Fontaine  names  first  in 
the  frontispiece  of  Eelphegor  : — 

"  Qui  ne  connait  1'inimitable  actrice 
Representant  Phedre  on  Berenice, 
Chimene  en  pleurs  ou  Camille  en  fureur  ? 
Est-il  quelqu'un  qui  cette  voix  n'enchante  ? " 

So  inimitable  was  she  in  this  character,  affording  her  as 
it  did  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of  all  the  resources 
of  her  art,  that  Phedre  was  the  play  selected  to  consecrate 
the  birth  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  on  Sunday,  August 
25,  1680;  and  it  was  Phedre  again,  with  Mile,  de 
Champmesl6  in  the  title-part,  which  inaugurated  the 
new  playhouse  in  the  Rue  des  Fosses-Saint-Germain,  on 
April  1 6,  1689.1 

1  M.  J.  Noury,  La  Champmctle,  p.  193. 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£          107 

The  popularity  of  Mile.  Champmesle  was  not  con- 
fined to  the  theatre.  Her  house  was  "  the  rendezvous 
of  all  persons  of  distinction  of  the  Court  and  the  town, 
as  well  as  of  the  most  celebrated  writers  of  the  time." 
Among  the  former  were  Charles  de  Sevign£,  Madame  de 
Sevigne's  troublesome  son,  the  Marquis  de  la  Fare,  the 
author  of  the  curious  and  all-too-brief  memoirs,  and  the 
Comtes  de  Revel  and  Clermont-Tonnerre.  The  latter, 
besides  Racine,  included  Boileau,  Valincourt,  Racine's 
successor  at  the  Academy,  Chapelle,  and  La  Fontaine, 
"  who  very  much  regretted  that  he  was  only  a  friend  " 
of  his  charming  hostess.  The  utmost  cordiality  and  an 
entire  absence  of  the  restraints  of  etiquette  characterised 
these  gatherings,  and  noblemen  and  writers  met  on  a 
footing  of  perfect  equality.  "  Permit  me  to  address 
you,"  writes  Boileau  to  the  Comte  de  Revel,  in  April 
1701,  "in  the  familiar  tone  to  which  you  formerly 
accustomed  me  at  the  house  of  the  famous  Champ- 
mesle." 

The  actress's  liaison  with  Racine  was  not  only  public 
but  accepted  by  the  easy  morality  of  the  day ;  Madame 
de  Sevigne  jests  about  it  in  her  letters,  and  La  Fontaine, 
writing  to  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  mentions  it  as  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  Many  years  afterwards, 
Boileau  reminds  Racine  of  the  numerous  bottles  of 
champagne  which  were  drunk  by  the  lady's  accommodating 
husband.  "  You  know,"  adds  he,  "  at  whose  expense." 

According  to  M.  Larroumet,  Racine's  latest  bio- 
grapher, the  poet's  passion  for  the  interpreter  of  his 
heroines  was  of  a  less  defensible  kind  than  that  which  he 
had  felt  for  her  predecessor  in  his  affections,  Mile,  du 
Pare,  "  with  whom  he  had  experienced  a  sentiment  which 
had  the  dignity  of  love."  M.  Larroumet  is  of  opinion 


io8      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

that  "  he  only  loved  her  with  the  facile  love  which  the 
professionals  of  gallantry  frequently  inspire." 

However  that  may  be,  the  lady  appears  to  have  been 
very  far  from  faithful  to  the  poet.  An  epigram  by 
Boileau,  which  is  rather  too  gai  for  us  to  transcribe, 
speaks  of  "  six  lovers  "  (including  the  husband),  and  of 
M.  de  Champmesle  living  on  the  best  of  terms  with  the 
others  and  his  wife.  The  favoured  gentlemen  appear  to 
have  been  Racine  and  the  four  noblemen  mentioned 
above.  But  the  only  one  of  the  four  about  whose  rela- 
tions with  the  actress  we  have  any  details  is  Charles  de 
Sevigne. 

This  young  gentleman  seems  to  have  had  something 
of  the  Oriental  in  his  temperament ;  for,  at  the  time  that 
he  was  paying  court  to  the  actress,  he  was  "  wearing  the 
chains  of  Ninon,  this  same  Ninon  who  corrupted  the 
morals  of  his  father."1  The  celebrated  Ninon  de  Lenclos, 
it  may  be  mentioned,  was  then  in  her  fifty-sixth  year,  but 
still  retained  much  of  her  former  fascination  ;  indeed,  if 
tradition  is  to  be  believed,  she  had  lovers  when  she  was 
over  eighty ! 

Madame  de  Sevigne  was  much  distressed  by  the  con- 
duct of  her  son.  "  Madame  de  la  Fayette  and  I  are 
using  every  effort  to  wean  him  from  so  dangerous  an 
attachment,"  she  writes  to  her  daughter.  "  Besides,  he 
has  a  little  actress  (Mile,  de  Champmesle)  and  all  the 
Despreaux  and  the  Racines.  There  are  delicious  suppers 
— that  is  to  say,  diableries"  Then,  on  March  1 8  :  "  Your 
brother  is  at  Saint-Germain.  He  divides  his  time  between 
Ninon  and  a  little  actress,  and,  to  crown  all,  Despreaux. 

1  Letter  of  Madame  de  Sevigne  to  Madame  de  Grignan,  March  1 3, 
1671. 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESLE  109 

We  lead  him  a  sad  life.  Ye  gods,  what  folly  !  Ye  gods, 
what  folly !  " 

From  the  above  passages,  it  would  appear  that  Racine 
and  his  friend  Boileau  were  not  exactly  in  the  odour  of 
sanctity  with  their  contemporaries  ;  indeed,  both  were 
evidently  regarded  as  corrupters  of  youth  by  anxious 
mothers  like  Madame  de  Sevign£. 

Three  weeks  later,  we  learn  that  M.  de  Sevign6  is  not 
prospering  in  his  love-affairs  ;  Ninon  has  dismissed  him, 
and  Mile,  de  Champmesl6  is  on  the  point  of  following 
her  example :  "A  word  or  two  concerning  your  brother. 
Ninon  has  given  him  his  conge.  She  is  tired  of  loving 
without  being  loved  in  return ;  she  has  insisted  upon  his 
returning  her  letters,  which  he  has  accordingly  done.  I 
was  not  a  little  pleased  at  the  separation.  I  gave  him  a 
hint  of  the  duty  he  owed  to  God,  reminded  him  of  his 
former  good  sentiments,  and  entreated  him  not  to  stifle 
all  notion  of  religion  in  his  breast.  But  this  is  not  all ; 
when  one  side  fails  us,  we  think  to  repair  it  with  the  other, 
and  are  deceived.  The  young  Merveille  (Mile,  de  Champ- 
mesle)  has  not  broken  with  him,  but  she  will  soon,  I 
believe.  .  .  .  The  poor  Chimene  says  she  sees  plainly 
that  he  no  longer  loves  her,  and  has  applied  himself  else- 
where. In  short,  this  affair  makes  me  laugh  ;  but  I  wish 
sincerely  it  may  be  the  means  of  weaning  him  from  a 
state  so  offensive  to  God  and  hurtful  to  his  own  soul. 
Ninon  told  him  that  he  was  a  pompion  fricasseed  in  snow. 
See  what  it  is  to  keep  good  company  !  One  learns  such 
elegant  expressions." 

Then,  on  April  17,  Madame  de  SeVigne  informs  her 
daughter  that  the  young  gentleman's  health  has  broken 
down  under  the  strain  of  "  the  abandoned  life  he  had 
led  during  Holy  Week,'*  and  that  he  can  "  scarcely  bear 


no      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

a  woman  in  his  presence."  Profiting  by  his  remorse,  his 
fond  mother  becomes  his  confessor :  "  I  took  the  oppor- 
tunity to  preach  him  a  little  sermon  on  the  subject,  and 
we  both  indulged  in  some  Christian  reflections.  He 
seems  to  approve  my  sentiments,  particularly  now  that 
his  disgust  is  at  its  height.  He  showed  me  some  letters 
that  he  had  recovered  from  his  actress.  I  never  read 
anything  so  warm,  so  passionate ;  he  wept,  he  died  ;  he 
believed  it  all  while  he  was  writing  it,  and  laughed  at  it 
a  moment  afterwards.  I  assure  you  that  he  is  worth  his 
weight  in  gold." 

Finally,  on  April  22,  the  marchioness  writes  that  all 
is  at  an  end  between  her  son  and  Mile,  de  Champmesl6,  and 
that  she  has  been  instrumental  in  preventing  the  young 
man  from  playing  a  singularly  mean  trick  upon  his  former 
enchantress  :  "  He  has  left  his  actress  at  last,  after  having 
followed  her  everywhere.  When  he  saw  her,  he  was  in 
earnest ;  a  moment  later,  he  would  make  the  greatest 
game  of  her.  Ninon  has  completely  discarded  him  ;  he 
was  miserable  while  she  loved  him,  and  now  that  she 
loves  him  no  longer,  he  is  in  absolute  despair.  She 
wished  him,  the  other  day,  to  give  her  the  letters  he  had 
received  from  his  actress,  which  he  did.  You  must  know 
that  she  was  jealous  of  that  princess,  and  wanted  to  show 
them  to  a  lover  of  hers,  in  the  hope  of  procuring  her  a 
few  blows  with  a  belt.  He  came  and  told  me,  when  I 
pointed  out  to  him  how  shameful  it  was  to  treat  this 
little  creature  so  badly,  merely  for  having  loved  him ; 
that  she  had  not  shown  people  his  letters,  as  some  would 
have  him  believe,  but,  on  the  contrary,  had  returned  them 
to  him  again  ;  that  such  treacherous  conduct  was  un- 
worthy of  a  man  of  quality,  and  that  there  was  a  degree 
of  honour  to  be  observed,  even  in  things  dishonourable  in 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL&  in 

themselves.  He  acquiesced  in  the  justice  of  my  remarks, 
hurried  at  once  to  Ninon's  house,  and,  partly  by  strategy 
and  partly  by  force,  got  the  poor  devil's  letters  out  of  her 
hands.  I  made  him  burn  them.  You  see  by  this  what 
a  regard  I  have  for  the  reputation  of  an  actress." 

According  to  M.  Gueullette  {Acteurs  et  Actrices  du 
temps  passe),  Racine,  though  deeply  in  love  with  Mile,  de 
Champmesl6,  supported  patiently  the  numerous  infideli- 
ties of  the  lady,  "  so  long  as  he  believed  them  to  be  passing 
fancies  and  that  he  was  still  beloved."  But  when  the 
actress  embarked  upon  a  more  serious  love-affair  with  the 
Comte  de  Clermont-Tonnerre,  and  a  wit  wrote — 

"  A  la  plus  tendre  amour  elle  fut  destin£e 
Qui  prit  longtemps  Racine  dans  son  coeur  : 
Mais,  par  un  insigne  malheur, 
Le  Tonnerre  est  venu,  qui  Ta  deracinte  " — 

he  was  so  bitterly  mortified  that  he  left  her  never  to 
return. 

The  brothers  Parfaict  and  d'Allainval  assert  that 
disgust  at  his  treatment  at  the  hands  of  Mile,  de  Champ- 
mesle  was  the  immediate  cause  of  Racine's  retirement 
from  dramatic  authorship,  at  the  age  of  thirty-eight,  at 
the  height  of  his  talent,  in  the  heyday  of  his  success ;  for 
after  Phedre  he  wrote  but  two  more  plays,  Esther  and 
Athalie,  which  were  performed  by  the  young  girls  of  Saint- 
Cyr,  and  were  not  seen  upon  the  Paris  stage  until  many 
years  after  his  death.  This,  however,  is  very  unlikely, 
and  it  is  quite  possible,  as  M.  Larroumet  suggests,  that 
Racine,  instead  of  abandoning  the  theatre,  because  Mile, 
de  Champmesl6  had  discarded  him,  discarded  the  actress, 
because  he  had  abandoned  the  theatre.  The  poet's  retire- 
ment indeed  seems  to  have  been  attributable  to  several 


ii2      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

different  motives  :  disgust  at  the  shameful  cabal  against 
Phldre  and  the  various  annoyances  to  which  it  gave  rise  ; 
the  fear  that  a  repetition  of  such  tactics  might  jeopardise 
his  position  as  the  greatest  tragic  dramatist  of  his  time  ; 
weariness  of  a  dissipated  life,  and,  above  all,  the  awaken- 
ing, after  a  sleep  of  many  years,  of  the  religious  senti- 
ments with  which  his  old  teachers  of  Port-Royal  had 
inspired  him  in  youth.  Indignation  at  Mile.  Champ- 
mesle's  conduct  may,  of  course,  have  had  something  to 
do  with  the  positive  antipathy  to  the  theatre  which  he 
manifested  in  his  last  years  ;*  but  to  assert  that  it  was  the 
cause  of  his  renunciation  of  a  profession  which  had 
brought  him  fame  and  fortune  is  to  credit  him  with  a 
capacity  for  sincere  affection  which  he  certainly  never 
possessed. 

With  Racine  departed  not  a  little  of  the  immense 
popularity  which  the  theatre  had  enjoyed  during  the  past 
half-century,  for  though  of  capable  actors  there  was,  for- 
tunately, no  lack,  dramatists  of  even  moderate  ability 
were  few  and  far  between.  In  place  of  Andromaques 
and  Iphigtnies  and  Phedres,  Mile,  de  Champmesl6  had 
to  resign  herself  to  appear  in  such  deservedly-forgotten 
plays  as  the  Achille  of  Thomas  Corneille,  the  Argelie  of 
the  Abbe  Abeille,  and  the  Troade  of  Pradon.  Neverthe- 
less, despite  the  barrenness  of  the  field  in  which  she 
laboured,  she  contrived  to  gather  fresh  laurels,  and  her 
masterly  impersonation  of  Queen  Elizabeth  in  Thomas 

1  "You  know,"  he  wrote  to  his  son,  Louis  Racine,  "what  I  have 
said  to  you  about  operas  and  plays  ;  there  will  probably  be  some  perfor- 
mances at  Marly  ;  the  King  and  the  Court  are  aware  of  the  scruples  which 
I  entertain  about  attending  them,  and  they  will  have  a  poor  opinion  of  you, 
if  you  show  so  little  regard  for  my  sentiments.  I  know  that  you  will  not 
be  dishonoured  before  men  should  you  go  to  the  play,  but  do  you  count  it 
nothing  to  be  dishonoured  before  God  ?  " 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£          113 

Corneille's  Comte  cT  Essex  (January  1678)  was  enthusias- 
tically received,  and  secured  for  a  mediocre  play  a  success 
out  of  all  proportion  to  its  merits.  "One  might  have 
said  of  her,"  remarks  M.  Noury,  "as  a  critic  said  of 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  after  seeing  her  in  the  same  part, 
*  I  have  seen  a  queen  among  actors.'  She  possessed,  in 
fact,  majesty.'* 

At  Easter  1679,  ^n  consequence  of  some  dissensions 
with  their  colleagues,  Mile,  de  Champmesle  and  her  hus- 
band quitted  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  where  they  had 
played  for  nineteen  years,  for  the  Theatre  Gu£negaud, 
which,  by  a  contract  dated  April  12,  awarded  them,  "  in 
gratitude,"  in  addition  to  a  full  share  of  the  profits,  an 
annual  allowance  of  one  thousand  livres.  All  her  con- 
temporaries are  agreed  that  this  defection  was  the  prin- 
cipal cause  of  the  fusion  of  the  two  troupes  in  the  follow- 
ing year.  Deprived  of  the  services  of  the  famous  actress, 
the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne  was  no  longer  able  to  cope 
with  its  powerful  rivals  in  the  Rue  Mazarine. 

On  the  formation  of  the  new  company,  the  Champ- 
mesles  figured  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  the  twenty-seven 
players  nominated  by  Louis  XIV.,  and  Mile.  Champmesl6 
was  at  once  recognised  as  the  mainstay  of  the  theatre  in 
tragedy,  as  Mile.  Moliere — or  rather  Mile.  Guerin,  as  she 
had  now  become — was  in  comedy.  Her  husband,  too, 
proved  himself  well  worthy  of  his  place,  not  only  as  an 
actor,  but  as  a  playwright.  His  Parisien  (produced  Feb- 
ruary 5,  1682),  as  we  have  said  elsewhere,  provided 
Mile.  GueYm  with  one  of  her  greatest  triumphs,  and  he 
secured  another  success  in  his  Fragments  de  Molierey  an 
amusing  piece,  in  which  various  characters  from  Moliere's 
plays  were  introduced. 

Mile,  de  Champmesle's  successes  did  not  make  her 

H 


n4      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

forget  her  relatives.  Her  brother,  Nicolas  Desmares, 
was  at  this  time  acting  at  Copenhagen,  in  the  troupe 
subsidised  by  Christian  V.  That  monarch  held  the  actor 
and  his  wife,  Anne  d'Ennebaut,  in  high  esteem,  and,  in 
1682,  in  imitation  of  Louis  XIV.'s  conduct  in  regard 
to  Moliere,  he  and  his  queen  stood  sponsors  to  their 
little  daughter,  Christine  Antoinette  Charlotte  Desmares, 
destined,  in  years  to  come,  to  emulate  the  triumphs  of 
her  famous  aunt.  Three  years  later,  Mile,  de  Champ- 
mesle  persuaded  her  brother  to  return  to  France,  and 
obtained  from  the  King  permission  for  him  to  be  received 
into  the  Comedie-Fransaise,  "  sans  debut"  For  an  actor 
to  be  admitted  a  member  of  so  famous  a  company  with- 
out being  required  to  give  proofs  of  his  capabilities,  was 
a  privilege  which  had  never  yet  been  accorded,  and  the 
playgoing  public  was  up  in  arms  at  what  it  was  pleased 
to  consider  a  scandalous  piece  of  nepotism.  So  great  was 
the  indignation  that  when  Desmares  made  his  first  appear- 
ance, on  May  7,  1685,  in  Tdramene,  an  angry  scene  was 
apprehended ;  but  the  new  socittaire's  acting  was  so 
admirable  that  the  hisses  were  soon  drowned  in  a  storm 
of  applause. 

When,  in  1689,  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  ousted  from 
the  Rue  Mazarine,  migrated  to  its  new  home  in  the  Rue 
Neuve-des-Fosses-Saint-Germain,  Mile,  de  Champmesle, 
in  spite  of  advancing  years,  continued  her  triumphant 
career,  her  remarkable  talents  and  enthusiasm  enabling 
her  to  secure  some  measure  of  success  for  even  the  most 
insipid  tragedy.  Apart  from  revivals  of  the  great  master- 
pieces of  Corneille  and  Racine,  perhaps  her  most  notable 
success  was  gained  in  the  part  of  Judith  in  the  Abbe 
Boyer's  tragedy  of  that  name,  produced  in  March  1795, 
when  she  was  in  her  fifty-fourth  year.  This  play  had  a 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£          115 

singular  history.  For  some  time  it  created  a  perfect 
furore^  and  the  theatre  could  with  difficulty  accommodate 
the  crowds  which  presented  themselves  nightly  at  the 
doors.  "The  seats  on  the  stage,"  says  Le  Sage,  "had 
to  be  given  up  by  the  men  to  the  women,  whose  hand- 
kerchiefs were  spread  upon  their  knees,  to  wipe  away  the 
tears  to  be  called  forth  by  touching  passages.  The 
usual  occupants  of  the  seats  had  to  be  content  with  the 
wings.  In  the  fourth  act,  there  was  a  scene  which 
proved  particularly  moving,  and,  for  that  reason,  was 
called  the  *  scene  des  mouchoirs.''  The  pit,  where  laughers 
are  always  to  be  found,  made  itself  merry  at  the  expense  of 
these  impressionable  ladies,  instead  of  weeping  with  them." 
Intoxicated  by  his  success,  the  Gascon  poet,  in  an  evil 
hour  for  himself,  determined  to  allow  his  work  to  be 
printed,  and  it  was  published  during  the  Easter  recess. 
It  was,  of  course,  eagerly  bought,  but  no  sooner  did 
people  begin  to  read  the  book,  than  they  made  the  dis- 
covery that  this  tragedy,  which  the  author's  indiscreet 
admirers  had  been  comparing  to  Polyeucte  and  Phedre,  was, 
in  truth,  a  most  mediocre  play,  which  clearly  owed  its 
phenomenal  success  to  the  religious  nature  of  the  subject 
and  Mile,  de  Champmesle's  brilliant  impersonation  of  the 
Judaean  heroine.  The  indignation  of  the  public  against  the 
unhappy  abbe,  who,  it  seemed  to  consider,  had  perpetrated 
a  kind  of  fraud  at  its  expense,  knew  no  bounds,  and  it 
was  forthwith  decided  that  Judith  must  be  driven  with 
ignominy  from  the  boards.  Accordingly,  when  the  cur- 
tain rose  on  Quasimodo  Sunday — the  usual  evening  for  the 
reopening  of  the  theatre — the  players,  whose  appearance 
for  so  many  nights  had  been  the  signal  for  prolonged 
applause,  were  received  with  a  storm  of  hisses  and  deri- 
sive laughter.  "  Then,"  continues  Le  Sage,  "  Mile,  de 


n6   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Champmesl6,  actress  worthy  of  eternal  remembrance, 
astonished  to  hear  such  a  symphony,  when  her  ears  were 
accustomed  only  to  applause,  addressed  the  pit  as  follows  : 
*  Gentlemen,  we  are  rather  surprised  that  you  should  re- 
ceive so  badly  to-day  a  play  which  you  applauded  during 
Lent.'  To  which  a  voice  replied  :  '  The  hisses  were  at 
Versailles,  at  the  sermons  of  the  Abb£  Boileau.' ' 

Mile,  de  Champmesle"  continued  on  the  stage  until  the 
end  of  her  life,  for,  with  her,  acting  would  seem  to  have 
been  not  only  a  profession,  but  a  passion  and  a  delight. 
As  she  grew  old,  however,  she  naturally  began  to  feel 
the  strain  of  such  constant  exertion,  and  the  efforts  she 
was  called  upon  to  make  in  order  to  secure  the  success 
of  Longpierre's  MddJe,  in  February  1694,  brought  on  a 
somewhat  severe  illness.  She  recovered  and  resumed  her 
place  in  the  company;  but,  four  years  later,  during  the 
run  of  the  Oreste  et  Pilade  of  La  Grange-Chancel,  which 
the  author  modestly  asserts  "  drew  as  many  tears  as  the 
Iphigtnie  of  M.  Racine,"  she  was  taken  seriously  ill  and 
ordered  by  the  doctors  a  complete  rest.  She  retired  to 
Auteuil,  which  was  "  already  sprinkled  with  fine  houses 
and  noted  among  suburban  villages  for  the  purity  of  its 
atmosphere."  Here  Boileau  had  a  villa,  with  a  delight- 
ful garden  attached,  in  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
entertaining  all  the  literary  celebrities  of  the  day,  from 
Racine  to  Madame  Deshoulieres ;  and  in  summer  the 
village  was  a  favourite  health  resort  of  those  Parisians 
whose  means  did  not  permit  of  a  visit  to  Dieppe. 

The  air  of  Auteuil,  however,  was  powerless  to  cure 

Mile,  de  Champmesl6.     She  grew  gradually  worse,  and 

early  in  May,  it  was  seen  that  her  end  was  near.     Then 

arose  the  question  of  the  administration  of  the  last  Sacra- 

1  Charles  Boileau,  Abbe  of  Beaulieu,  and  a  member  of  the  Academy. 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  117 

ments ;  but  before  speaking  of  this,  it  may  be  as  well  for 
us  to  glance  back  and  see  what  had  been  the  practice  of 
the  Church  in  regard  to  the  theatrical  profession  during 
the  quarter  of  a  century  which  had  elapsed  since  the 
death  of  Moliere. 

If  any  hopes  had  existed  that  the  distressing  incidents 
which  had  accompanied  the  death  of  the  great  actor- 
dramatist  had  been  merely  the  outcome  of  the  hostility 
of  the  Church  towards  a  particular  individual,  and,  as 
such,  were  unlikely  to  be  repeated,  they  were  speedily 
doomed  to  disappointment.  Henceforth,  the  penalties 
denounced  against  the  profession  by  the  early  councils 
were  no  longer  suffered  to  remain  a  dead  letter,  but 
were  enforced  with  the  most  merciless  severity.  The 
actor  found  himself  excommunicated  both  in  life  and 
death.  Marriage,  absolution,  the  Holy  Sacrament,  bap- 
tism, all  were  denied  him ;  and  he  was  even  refused 
Christian  burial.  In  one  way,  and  in  one  way  only, 
could  he  escape  this  infamous  proscription,  which  was 
publicly  proclaimed  every  Sunday  from  every  pulpit  in 
Paris,  namely,  by  renouncing  his  profession,  surrender- 
ing his  means  of  livelihood,  forfeiting,  in  the  case  of  a 
member  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  the  pension  to  which 
he  was  entitled  after  twenty  years'  service. 

In  1684,  Brecourt,  an  actor  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise, 
died.  On  his  death-bed  he  sent  for  the  cure  of  Saint- 
Sulpice ;  but  that  priest  refused  to  administer  the  Sacra- 
ments until  the  actor  had  executed  a  deed  formally 
renouncing  his  profession,  which  was  signed  by  him  and 
four  ecclesiastics.1  Shortly  afterwards,  two  other  players, 

1  Here  is  the  renunciation :   "  In  the  presence  of  M.  Claude  Botte 
de  la  Barondiere,  priest,  doctor  of  theology  of  the  Sorbonne,  cure  of  the 


n8   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Raisin  and  Sall6,  were  compelled  to  subscribe  to  similar 
documents,  in  the  presence  of  a  notary. 

Two  years  later,  Rosimont  died  suddenly  without 
having  had  time  to  abjure  his  errors.  Notwithstanding 
a  fondness  for  good  liquor,  he  was  a  sincerely  religious 
man,  having  published  a  translation  of  the  Psalms  in 
verse,  and  also  written,  or  collaborated  in,  a  Vie  des  saints 
pour  tous  /es  jours  de  Fannee.  This  fact,  however,  was 
not  permitted  to  have  any  weight  with  the  bigoted  cure 
of  Saint-Sulpice,  and  the  remains  of  poor  Rosimont  were 
interred,  without  any  ceremony,  in  a  part  of  the  cemetery 
reserved  for  unbaptized  children. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that,  outside  the  capital,  the 
proscription  of  the  actor  was  general.  In  the  provinces 
it  varied,  according  to  the  views  of  the  different  bishops 
and  the  particular  ritual  observed,  and  in  some  dioceses  the 
penalties  were  not  enforced  at  all.  Moreover,  even  among 
the  clergy  themselves,  men  of  liberal  opinions  were  not 
wanting  to  protest  vigorously  against  the  folly  and  in- 
justice of  reviving  superannuated  anathemas,  intended  to 
apply  to  the  sanguinary  games  of  the  circus  and  the  scan- 
dalous performances  of  the  Roman  theatre,  against  the 
interpreters  of  the  tragedies  of  Corneille  and  Racine  and 

church  and  parish  of  Saint-Sulpice,  at  Paris,  and  the  witnesses  herein- 
after named,  Guillaume  Marconnau  de  Brecourt  has  declared  that,  having 
formerly  followed  the  profession  of  an  actor,  he  renounces  it,  and  promises, 
with  a  true  and  sincere  heart,  to  exercise  it  no  more,  even  if  restored 
to  full  and  complete  health." — Extract  from  the  Register  of  Saint- 
Sulpice,  cited  by  M.  Gaston  Maugras,  Les  Comediens  hors  la  lot,  p. 
154  note. 

It  appears  also  to  have  been  customary  in  the  case  of  an  actor  to  pin 
to  the  register  of  deaths  the  following  paper :  "  The  said  person  was  not 
absolved  and  received  into  holy  ground  until  after  having  publicly  re- 
nounced the  profession  he  had  formerly  exercised,  by  an  act  before  the 
notaries." 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  119 

the  comedies  of  Moliere.  In  1694,  a  Theatine  monk, 
one  Pere  Caffaro  by  name,  published,  under  the  cloak  of 
anonymity,  a  very  able  letter,  entitled  Lettre  (Tun  Theo- 
logien,  wherein  he  asserted  that  "  the  theatre,  as  it  then 
existed  in  France,  contained  only  lessons  of  virtue, 
humanity,  and  morality,  and  nothing  to  which  the  most 
chaste  ear  could  not  give  its  attention."  He  further 
pointed  out  that  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the  Church — 
bishops,  cardinals,  and  nuncios — had  no  scruples  about 
visiting  the  theatre,  and,  therefore,  if  it  was  to  be  con- 
demned, they  must  be  condemned  also,  "  since  they 
authorised  it  by  their  presence  " ;  and  concluded  by  eulo- 
gising the  exemplary  life  led  by  so  many  members  of  the 
proscribed  profession,  and  their  abounding  charity,  "  to 
which  magistrates  and  the  superiors  of  convents  could 
bear  ample  testimony." 

This  letter  made  a  great  stir,  and  brought  Bossuet — 
then  regarded  as  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Gallican  Church 
— into  the  field  to  crush  the  imprudent  Theatine.  The 
bishop  called  upon  the  monk  to  retract  his  statements, 
and  published  a  treatise  called  Maximes  et  reflexions  sur  la 
com&die^  in  which,  after  denouncing  the  plays  most  in 
vogue,  and  in  particular  the  comedies  of  Moliere,  which 
he  stigmatised  as  full  of  "  impieties  and  obscenities 
unfit  for  the  ears  of  a  Christian,"  he  maintained  that 
it  was  not  only  "  the  idolatry  and  the  scandalous  in- 
decency "  of  the  theatre  that  the  Fathers  of  the  Church 
had  condemned,  but  "  its  uselessness,  its  prodigious 
dissipation,  the  passions  which  it  excited,  and  the  vanity 
and  love  of  display  which  it  aroused."  According  to 
him,  the  Church  would  excommunicate  all  Christians  who 
frequented  the  theatre,  were  the  number  of  offenders 
not  so  great. 


120      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

Bossuet  also  asserted  that  actors  had  always  been 
excommunicated.  "  The  constant  practice  of  the 
Church,"  he  wrote,  "  is  to  deprive  those  who  perform 
plays  of  the  Sacraments,  both  in  life  and  death,  unless 
they  renounce  their  art ;  and  to  repulse  them  from  the 
Holy  Table  as  public  sinners."  This  statement,  as 
M.  Maugras  points  out,  in  his  able  and  interesting 
work,  Les  Comddiens  hors  la  tot,  was  quite  untrue.  Up 
to  the  time  of  Tartuffe^  the  Church  had  shown  the 
greatest  indulgence  towards  the  theatrical  profession, 
and  the  old  canons  had  remained  a  dead-letter. 

Bossuet  was  followed  in  his  campaign  against  the 
theatre  by  all  the  most  eminent  of  the  French  clergy. 
Massillon,  F16chier,  Bourdaloue,  and  Fenelon  vied  with 
one  another  in  denouncing  the  unhappy  actor  in  their 
sermons  and  writings.1  Pere  Caffaro  was  compelled  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Paris  to  publicly  disavow  his  letter, 
which,  in  fear  and  trembling,  he  now  protested  had 
been  extracted  from  a  work  of  his,  written  "  in  the 
levity  of  youth,"  and  published  without  his  knowledge 
or  consent ;  and  the  persecution,  encouraged  by  the 
fact  that  the  gloomy  bigotry  of  the  old  King  had  led 
him  to  withdraw  his  protection  from  the  theatre,  grew 
more  rigorous  than  ever. 

Strangely  enough,  at  the  same  time  that  the  Church 
was  mercilessly  proscribing  the  French  actors,  it  received 
with  open  arms  the  Italian  players,  who  had  definitely 
established  themselves  in  Paris  in  1660,  admitted  them 

1  Among  Bossuet's  supporters  was  Pere  Lebrun,  of  the  Oratory,  who 
published  a  Discours  tur  la  comed'u.  One  of  this  good  father's  chief 
objections  to  the  theatre  was  "because  it  it  perpetually  turning  into 
ridicule  parents  who  strive  to  prevent  their  children  from  contracting  love- 
matches." 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  121 

to  the  Sacraments,  allowed  them  to  be  married  in  church, 
and  buried  them  in  holy  ground.  This  distinction 
appears  the  more  inexplicable,  as  the  French  theatre  was 
at  this  period  as  reserved  and  decent  as  the  Italian  was 
the  reverse.  The  licence  of  the  foreigners,  indeed,  knew 
no  bounds,  and  finally  their  plays  assumed  so  objection- 
able a  character  that,  in  1697,  they  were  expelled  from 
France.1  The  probable  explanation  is,  that  the  Gallican 
Church  did  not  dare  to  proscribe  the  same  persons  whom 
the  sovereign  pontiffs  tolerated  in  their  realm,  and  whose 
performances  were  freely  patronised  by  the  Roman  pre- 
lates and  clergy.2 

By  another  inconsistency,  the  indulgence  shown  to  the 
Italian  players  was  extended  to  the  singers  and  dancers 
of  the  Opera.  The  reason  given  for  this  exemption  was 
that  the  members  of  the  Opera  were  not  actors,  as  they 
did  not  bear  the  name.  But,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
canons  of  the  early  councils,  upon  which  the  bigots 
relied  for  their  authority,  made  no  distinction  what- 
ever between  the  different  classes  of  public  performers  : 

1  According  to  Saint-Simon,  the  immediate  cause  of  their  expulsion 
was  the  representation  of  a  licentious  comedy,  called  La  Fatuse  Prude,  in 
which  character  Madame  de  Maintenon  was  easily  recognised. 

2  In  1696,  the  French  actors,  desirous  of  testing  the  legality  of  the 
attitude  of  the  Church  towards  them,  addressed  a  petition  to  Innocent  XII., 
in   which,  after  representing  that    they  performed  in  Paris   "  none  but 
honest  plays,  purged  of  all  obscenities,  and  more  calculated  to  influence 
the  faithful  for  good  than  for  evil,  and  inspire  them  with  a  horror  of  vice 
and  a  love  of  virtue,"  they  besought  him  to  inform  them  if  the  bishops 
had  the  right  to  excommunicate  them.     The  Holy  See,  however,  un- 
willing to  provoke  a  conflict  with  the  independent  French  bishops,  who, 
it  well  knew,  would  not  hesitate  to  resist  its  orders,  if  it  took  the  part  of 
the  actors,   referred   the  petitioners  to  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  "  that 
they  might  be  treated  according  to  the  law."     A  similar  fate  awaited  a 
second  appeal  to  Clement  XI.  in  1701. 


122      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

actors,  singers,  dancers,  mountebanks,  jugglers,  and 
circus  performers  were  all  included  in  one  common 
anathema.1 

Mile,  de  Champmesld  had  been  greatly  distressed 
at  having  to  renounce  her  triumphs  and  the  adulation 
of  the  public.  Proud  of  the  profession  to  which  she 
owed  her  fame,  she  revolted  from  the  idea  of  repudiating 
it,  and  for  some  time  opposed  a  steady  resistance  to 
the  solicitations  of  the  curd  of  Auteuil,  who  besought 
her  to  make  her  peace  with  Heaven,  or  rather  with  the 
Church.  Finally,  however,  she  yielded,  and  the  curd 
of  Saint-Sulpice,  to  whose  parish  she  belonged,  was 
summoned  to  receive  her  renunciation.  Under  ordinary 
circumstances,  as  we  have  seen,  the  unfortunate  actor 
or  actress  was  compelled  to  give  this  undertaking  in 
writing  duly  attested  before  a  notary ;  but  when  the 
priest  arrived  the  poor  woman  was  at  the  point  of 
death,  and  he  was  therefore  compelled  to  content  himself 
with  a  verbal  declaration.  This  formality  concluded, 
the  curd  of  Auteuil  gave  the  dying  actress  absolution 
and  administered  the  last  Sacraments;  and  on  May  15, 
1698,  she  passed  quietly  away,  at  the  age  of  fifty-six. 

On  the  morrow  her  body  was  brought  to  Paris,  and 
interred  at  Saint-Sulpice,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
of  the  Com£die-Fran9aise. 

That  same  day,  Racine,  now  a  devot  of  the  most 
pronounced  type,  wrote  to  his  son  Louis,  "  with  whom," 
says  the  poet's  very  candid  biographer,  M.  Larroumet, 
"  he  ought  never  to  have  approached  such  a  subject "  : — 

"  M.  de  Rost  informed  me  the  day  before  yesterday 
that  the  Champmesld  was  in  extremis,  about  which  he 

1  M.  Gaston  Maugras,  Let  Comedlens  hors  la  loi,  p.  154  et  seq. 


MARIE   DE   CHAMPMESL6  123 

appeared  very  distressed  ;  but  what  is  more  distressing  is 
that  which  he  apparently  troubles  little  about,  I  mean 
the  obstinacy  with  which  this  poor  wretch  refuses  to 
renounce  the  play;  declaring,  so  I  am  told,  that  she 
is  proud  to  die  an  actress.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that,  when 
she  sees  death  drawing  nearer,  she  will  change  her  tone, 
as  is  the  rule  with  the  majority  of  persons  who  give 
themselves  such  airs  so  long  as  they  are  in  good  health." 

Two  months  later,  he  returns  to  the  subject  in  these 
terms  : — 

"  I  must  tell  you,  by  the  way,  that  I  owe  reparation 
to  the  memory  of  the  Champmesle,  who  died  in  a 
sufficiently  good  state  of  mind,  after  having  renounced 
the  play,  very  repentant  for  her  past  life,  but  especially 
distressed  at  having  to  die." 

"  There  is  no  conversion,"  very  justly  remarks 
M.  Larroumet,  "  that  can  possibly  excuse  such  language 
as  this." 

Mile,  de  Champmesl6  left  behind  her  two  brilliant 
pupils.  The  first  was  Mile.  Duclos,  daughter  of  a 
former  member  of  the  Marais  troupe  named  Chateau- 
neuf,  who  made  her  dtbut  at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  in 
1693,  and  was  soon  afterwards  engaged  to  understudy 
the  great  actress  in  first  tragedy  parts.  She  excelled  in 
roles  requiring  "  majesty  of  bearing  and  the  impetuous 
sway  of  passion,"  and  in  such  secured  several  notable 
successes ;  but  her  style  both  of  speaking  and  acting 
seems  to  have  been  very  artificial.  She  was,  moreover, 
cursed  with  a  most  abominable  temper,  which  made  her 
a  perfect  terror  to  her  colleagues  at  rehearsals,  and 
which  she  could  not  always  control,  even  before  the 
audience.  At  the  first  performance  of  La  Motte's 


i24      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Ines  de  Castro,  in  1723,  a  scene  which  was  intended  to 
be  intensely  pathetic  excited  the  merriment  of  the  pit, 
upon  which  Mile.  Duclos,  who  was  playing  Ines,  stopped 
the  performance,  and  coming  to  the  front  of  the  stage, 
shouted  angrily,  "  Foolish  pit !  You  are  laughing  at 
the  finest  thing  in  the  play."  On  another  occasion, 
when  Dancourt  apologised  to  the  audience  for  the  lady's 
non-appearance  in  one  of  her  most  popular  roles,  at  the 
same  time  indicating,  by  a  significant  gesture,  the  cause 
of  her  indisposition,  the  actress,  who  happened  to  be 
standing  in  the  wings,  rushed  on  to  the  stage,  beside 
herself  with  passion,  and  soundly  boxed  her  facetious 
colleague's  ears,  amid  roars  of  laughter.  In  1733,  when 
in  her  fifty-sixth  year,  Mile.  Duclos  was  foolish  enough 
to  marry  an  actor  named  Duchemin,  a  youth  scarcely 
seventeen !  Two  years  later,  she  was  compelled  to 
obtain  a  separation  from  her  juvenile  husband,  whom  she 
alleged  had  "  maltreated  her  daily,"  and  dealt  her  "  coups 
de  pied  et  de  poing  tant  sur  le  corps  que  sur  le  visage" 
Mile.  Duclos's  most  successful  creation  was  Zenobie, 
in  the  Rhadaminthe  et  Zenobie  of  Cr6billon,  and  among 
her  other  impersonations  were  Ariane,  in  Thomas 
Corneille's  play  of  that  name,  Josabeth,  in  Athalie^ 
Herselie  in  La  Motte's  Romulus,  and  the  title-part  in 
the  Electre  of  Longpierre.  She  retired,  in  1733,  with 
a  pension  of  1000  livres  from  the  theatre,  and  another 
of  the  same  amount  from  the  court,  which  she  enjoyed 
for  twelve  years. 

The  second  of  Mile,  de  Champmesle's  pupils  was 
her  own  niece,  Charlotte  Desmares,  of  whom  we  have 
already  spoken.  After  playing  in  child-parts  for  some 
years  at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  Mile.  Desmares  made 
her  debut  in  1699,  the  year  after  her  aunt's  death.  She 


MARIE  DE  CHAMPMESL£          125 

was  an  exceedingly  pretty  young  woman,  and,  though 
inferior  to  Mile.  Duclos  in  declamatory  tragedy,  greatly 
her  superior  in  pathetic  roles.  Her  best  tragedy  parts 
were  Iphigenie  in  La  Grange-Chancel's  Oreste  et  Pilade> 
which  had  been  Mile,  de  Champmesle's  last  creation, 
Semiramis  in  Crebillon's  play  of  that  name,  Jocaste 
in  the  CEdipe  of  Voltaire,  and  Antigone  in  La  Motte's 
Machabtes,  which  crowned  her  career.  She  was  even 
more  successful  in  comedy,  and  no  better  soubrette  had 
been  seen  since  the  days  of  Madeleine  Bejart.  In  1715, 
she  became  the  mistress  of  the  Regent  d'Orleans,  by 
whom  she  had  a  daughter.  "  My  son,"  wrote  the  old 
Duchesse  d'Orleans,  "  has  been  presented  with  a  daughter 
by  the  Desmares.  She  tried  to  pass  off  another  child 
on  him  as  his,  but  he  replied,  '  Nony  celui-ci  est  par  trop 
Arlequin' " 

Mile.  Desmares  retired  from  the  stage  in  1721,  and 
died  in  1 743  at  the  age  of  sixty-one. 

Charles  de  Champmesl6  did  not  long  survive  his 
wife.  A  curious  story  attaches  to  his  death.  On  the 
night  of  August  19-20,  1701,  he  dreamed  that  his 
dead  mother  and  his  wife  appeared  to  him  and  beckoned 
him  to  follow  them.  Convinced  that  this  dream  was 
a  warning  of  his  approaching  death,  he  went,  early  the 
following  morning,  to  the  church  of  the  Cordeliers,  and, 
handing  the  sacristan  a  thirty-sol  piece,  requested  him  to 
have  two  Requiem  Masses  said  for  the  souls  of  his 
departed  relatives.  Then,  as  the  monk  was  about  to 
return  him  the  change — the  fee  for  a  Mass  was  ten 
sols — the  actor  exclaimed  :  "  Keep  the  balance  and  say 
a  third  Mass  for  me ;  I  will  stay  and  listen  to  it." 
On  leaving  the  church,  Champmesl£  made  his  way 


126      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

to  a  tavern  adjoining  the  Comedie-Fransaise,  and  sat 
down  on  a  bench  by  the  door,  where  he  remained  for 
some  time,  deep  in  thought.  Presently  he  entered  the 
theatre  and  walked  about  the  foyer,  muttering  to  himself 
the  old  proverb  :  "  Adieu,  paniers !  vendanges  sont  faites  " 
("  Farewell,  baskets  !  the  grapes  are  gathered  ").  He 
repeated  this  so  often,  and  his  manner  appeared  so 
strange,  that  his  colleagues  feared  his  mind  had  suddenly 
become  affected.  But,  after  a  while,  he  recovered  his 
usual  cheerfulness,  and  invited  his  brother-in-law,  Nicolas 
Desmares,  and  several  others  to  dine  with  him  at  the 
tavern,  in  order  to  settle  some  dispute  which  had  arisen 
between  two  of  them.  Scarcely,  however,  had  they 
reached  the  door,  than  Champmesle  staggered,  put  his 
hands  to  his  forehead,  and  fell,  face  downwards,  on  the 
floor.  When  his  friends  raised  him  up,  he  was  dead. 


Ill 

ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR 


Ill 

ADRIENNE    LECOUVREUR 

ALTHOUGH  not  the  greatest,  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  is 
perhaps  the  most  interesting,  and  certainly  the  most 
sympathetic,  figure  in  the  history  of  the  French  stage. 
She  was  the  first  actress  to  enjoy  not  only  renown  in  the 
theatre,  but  consideration  in  society ;  she  was  beloved  by 
the  greatest  soldier  of  her  time ;  she  was  on  terms  of 
the  closest  friendship  with  the  greatest  poet,  and  in- 
spired him  to  a  most  touching  elegy ;  while  the  terrible 
suspicion  attaching  to  her  death  and  the  deplorable 
scandal  connected  with  her  burial  have  invested  her 
with  a  halo  of  romance.  She  seems,  moreover,  to  possess 
an  attraction  for  French  writers  which  is  shared  by  no 
other  actress.  She  has  found  a  well-informed  con- 
temporary biographer  in  the  dramatist  d'Allainval; 
Sainte-Beuve  has  given  her  a  place  in  his  Lundis,  and 
Michelet  one  in  his  Histoire  de  France ;  Lemontey  pro- 
nounced an  eloquent  eloge  of  her  before  the  Academy ; 
Regnier  has  allotted  her  a  chapter  in  his  Souvenirs  et 
etudes  du  theatre^  and  M.  Larroumet  has  consecrated 
to  her  a  fine  study  in  his  Etudes  de  literature  et  a" art. 
Finally,  she  has  been  made  the  subject  of  a  famous 
tragedy,1  in  which  the  heroine  was  impersonated  by  the 
greatest  French  actress  of  the  nineteenth  century,  Rachel. 

1  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  by  Eugene  Scribe  and  Ernest  Legouve,  first 

represented  at  the  Theatre  de  la  Republique,  April  1849. 

129  . 


130      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

Within  recent  years,  interest  in  Adrienne  Lecouvreur 
has  been  greatly  stimulated  owing  to  the  publication 
by  M.  Georges  Monval,  the  learned  archivist  of  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise,  of  a  collection  of  the  actress's  letters, 
preceded  by  an  admirable  biography,  containing  much 
information  about  the  early  part  of  her  theatrical  career, 
of  which,  up  to  that  time,  little  or  nothing  was  known. 
These  letters,  besides  affording  us  a  valuable  insight 
into  Adrienne's  character,  contain,  in  the  opinion  of 
eminent  French  critics,  some  truly  exquisite  pages,  which 
entitle  the  writer  to  a  place  beside  the  Caylus,  the  Staals, 
the  A'fsses,  and  other  mistresses  of  the  language  of 
her  time. 

Adrienne  Lecouvreur  was  born  on  April  5,  1692, 
at  Damery,  a  little  town  of  Champagne,  overlooking 
the  smiling  valley  of  the  Marne.  Her  father  was  a 
journeyman  hatter,  named  Robert  Couvreur ; l  her 
mother's  name  was  Marie  Bouty.  Soon  after  Adrienne 
was  born,  her  parents  removed  to  Fismes,  between 
Rheims  and  Soissons,  and,  about  the  year  1702,  migrated 
to  Paris,  where  they  resided  in  the  Rue  des  Fosses- 
Saint-Germain-des-Pres,  close  to  the  Comedie-Fran9aise, 
the  little  girl  being  sent  to  the  Couvent  des  Filles 
de  I'lnstruction  Chretienne,  Rue  du  Gindre,  one  of  the 
convents  at  which  a  certain  number  of  poor  children 
received  a  free  education. 

Adrienne  appears  to  have  had  a  very  unhappy 
childhood.  In  a  letter  in  verse  which  she  addressed, 
many  years  later,  to  her  faithful  friend  d'Argental,  she 
declares  that  a  divinity  "  furious  and  jealous  "  seated 

1  It  was  only  when  she  became  an  actress  that  Adrienne  prefaced  her 
patronymic  by  the  article  "  Le"  in  order  to  give  it  a  more  artistic  sound. 
For  a  long  time  she  wrote  her  name  as  two  words. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  131 

herself  near  her  cradle  and  controlled  her  destiny  from 
her  earliest  years.     In  the  "  ruin  "  where  she  was  born, — 

"  Residaient  le  misere  et  1'aigreur, 
L'emportement,  la  grossiere  fureur." 

This  last  statement  was  probably  true  enough,  as  her 
father  was  a  man  of  the  most  violent  temper,  who,  after 
leading  his  family  a  sad  life,  finally  became  insane  and 
had  to  be  sent  to  the  maison  de  sante  at  Charleville. 
Here,  Adrienne  tells  us,  the  unfortunate  man  dis- 
tinguished himself  by  "  setting  fire  to  the  four  corners 
of  his  room,  and  concealing  himself  in  the  chimney, 
which  he  had  previously  stopped  up  with  the  coverlet 
of  his  bed."  His  intention  apparently  was  to  make  his 
escape  amid  the  confusion  which  would  follow  the 
discovery  of  the  fire,  but,  in  the  result,  he  was  nearly 
burned  to  death.  In  spite  of  all  she  seems  to  have 
suffered  at  her  father's  hands,  Adrienne  never  ceased 
to  love  him,  and  saw  in  this  calamity  "the  chief  of 
all  her  misfortunes." 

When  Adrienne  was  thirteen,  a  chance  circumstance 
revealed  her  vocation  for  the  theatre.  She  and  some 
other  children  of  her  quarter  took  it  into  their  heads  to 
perform  some  plays  for  their  own  amusement,  and  met 
to  rehearse  at  a  grocer's  shop  in  the  Rue  Ferou.  The 
young  people  had  the  hardihood  to  attempt  Polyeucte, 
Adrienne  playing  Pauline,  one  of  the  most  touching  of 
the  great  Corneille's  heroines,  and  reciting  the  famous 
dramatist's  verses  with  a  fire  and  pathos  which  eclipsed 
Mile.  Duclos  herself. 

The  news  of  their  rehearsals  reached  the  ears  of  a 
certain  Madame  du  Gue,  the  wife  of  a  President  of  the 
Parliament  of  Paris  and  a  great  patroness  of  the  drama. 


132      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Madame  la  Presidente  invited  the  little  players  to  give  a 
representation  in  the  courtyard  of  her  hotel  in  the  Rue 
Garanciere,  where  she  had  a  stage  erected,  and  asked  a 
large  and  distinguished  company  to  witness  the  perform- 
ance. Struck  by  the  novelty  of  the  entertainment,  a 
great  many  people  came  who  had  not  been  invited,  and, 
despite  the  efforts  of  eight  tall  Swiss,  the  door  was  forced, 
and  when  the  curtain — or  whatever  did  duty  for  it- — 
rose,  the  courtyard,  large  as  it  was,  was  inconveniently 
crowded. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  the  performance  should 
consist  of  Pierre  Corneille's  famous  tragedy,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  lively  little  play,  in  one  act,  and  in  verse, 
called  Le  D  <?#//,  the  joint  work  of  Hauteroche  and 
Thomas  Corneille.  In  those  days,  we  may  observe,  a 
tragedy  was  almost  invariably  followed  by  a  comedy, 
the  idea  presumably  being  to  dissipate  the  sad  impres- 
sions produced  by  the  former,  and  send  the  audience 
home  in  good  spirits. 

In  default  of  a  costume  suitable  to  the  period  in 
which  the  action  of  Polyeucte  passes,  Adrienne  had 
borrowed  a  gown  of  fashionable  make  from  Madame 
du  Gue's  waiting-woman,  which,  unfortunately,  was  very 
much  too  large  for  her.  But  the  little  actress's  talent 
triumphed  over  sartorial  disadvantages,  and  her  im- 
personation of  the  faithful  wife  of  Polyeucte  struggling 
against  the  memory  of  her  first  love  was  perfectly 
extraordinary  for  one  of  her  age.  "  She  charmed  every 
one  by  a  quite  novel  style  of  recitation,  so  natural  and 
so  true  that  it  was  the  unanimous  opinion  that  she  had 
but  a  step  to  take  to  become  the  greatest  actress  ever 
seen  upon  the  French  stage." 

Adrienne's    efforts    were    ably    seconded    by   a    lad 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  133 

named  Menou,  who  played  Severe,  and  entered  so 
thoroughly  into  the  spirit  of  his  role  that,  as  he  uttered 
the  words  :  "  Soutiens-moi,  ce  coup  de  foudre  est  grand ! " 
he  fell  to  the  ground  in  a  swoon,  and  had  to  be  carried 
away  and  bled.  After  which,  he  pluckily  returned  and 
finished  his  part. 

Polyeucte  concluded,  the  little  actors  were  about  to 
begin  their  performance  of  Le  Deuit,  and  every  one  was 
looking  forward  to  see  whether  Adrienne  would  shape 
as  well  in  comedy  as  she  had  in  tragedy,  when  the 
archers  of  the  Lieutenant  of  Police  suddenly  appeared  on 
the  scene.  The  members  of  the  Corned ie-Fran9aise 
had  got  wind  of  this  entertainment,  composed  of  two 
pieces  from  their  own  repertoire ;  and,  indeed,  several 
of  them  had  assisted  at  it.  The  popularity  of  the 
national  theatre  was  just  then  much  weakened  by  the 
rivalry  of  the  Opera  and  the  unlicensed  playhouses  of 
the  fairs  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Paris,  and  they  feared 
that  by  tolerating  such  performances  as  the  present  one 
their  receipts  would  be  still  further  diminished.  They 
accordingly  sent  a  deputation  to  d'Argenson,  begging 
him  to  uphold  the  exclusive  privileges  conferred  upon 
the  Comedie-Fran^aise  at  its  foundation,  and  to  nip  the 
enterprise  of  their  youthful  competitors  in  the  bud. 

The  police  informed  Madame  du  Gue  that  they 
had  come  with  orders  from  their  chief  to  arrest  the 
little  players.  But  that  good  lady  begged  the  exempt  in 
charge  for  a  short  respite,  and  despatched  a  messenger 
to  d'Argenson,  who  consented  to  pardon  the  delin- 
quents, on  condition  that  the  performances  should  cease. 
Madame  la  Presidente's  guests,  accordingly,  were  dis- 
appointed of  their  comedy ;  but  it  was  performed  none 
the  less,  for  the  Grand  Prieur  de  Vendome,  head  of  the 


i34      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Order  of  Malta,  learning  of  what  had  occurred,  invited 
Adrienne  and  her  comrades  to  the  Temple,  which  was 
outside  the  ordinary  jurisdiction  of  the  police  ;  and  here 
they  gave  several  performances,  in  which  the  little  girl 
confirmed  the  great  impression  she  had  made  at  Madame 
du  Gue's.  "  After  which,"  says  d'Allainval,  "  the  party 
was  entirely  disbanded." 

Adrienne  had  an  aunt,  a  laundress,  who  numbered 
among  her  customers  an  actor  named  Le  Grand,  who 
had  recently  been  admitted  a  socittaire  of  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  increasing  his  pro- 
fessional income  by  training  pupils  for  the  stage.  Le 
Grand  was  an  amusing  character.  The  son  of  a 
surgeon-major  of  the  Invalides,  he  had  received  a  fair 
education,  and,  after  serving  his  apprenticeship  in  the 
provinces,  had  left  France  to  accept  an  engagement  at 
the  Polish  Court,  where  he  had  remained  for  some 
years.  He  seems  to  have  owed  his  admission  to 
the  Comedie-Fran^aise  to  the  patronage  of  no  less  a 
person  than  the  Grand  Dauphin  himself,  for,  though 
an  excellent  teacher,  he  was  an  actor  of  but  moderate 
ability,  and  was,  moreover,  so  singularly  ill-favoured  that 
for  some  time  he  could  not  appear  on  the  stage  without 
being  exposed  to  bursts  of  derisive  laughter.  His  ready 
wit  and  imperturbable  good-humour,  however,  eventually 
gained  him  the  favour  of  the  public.  One  night  when 
he  was  being  unmercifully  chaffed  by  the  pit,  he  came 
to  the  front  of  the  stage,  and  coolly  addressed  his  perse- 
cutors as  follows :  "  Gentlemen,  it  will  be  easier  for 
you  to  accustom  yourselves  to  my  face  than  for  me 
to  change  it." 

From  that  moment,  his  popularity  was  assured,  but, 
to  the  last,  his  ungainly  figure  and  comical  face  proved 


ADRIENNE    LECOUVREUR  135 

a  source  of  merriment  to  the  less  seriously  disposed 
patrons  of  the  theatre,  especially  when  he  happened  to 
be  undertaking  an  heroic  part. 

Le  Grand's  forte  lay  in  the  writing  rather  than  the 
acting  of  plays.  In  this  he  was  very  successful,  for,  like 
Dancourt,  he  possessed  the  happy  knack  of  giving 
dramatic  form  to  the  topics  of  the  hour.  Thus  when, 
in  October  1721,  the  notorious  robber  Cartouche  was 
awaiting  his  trial,  Le  Grand  made  him  the  central 
figure  of  a  comedy,  called  Cartouche,  ou  les  Voleurs^  and 
paid  several  visits  to  the  Chatelet  to  study  and  converse 
with  the  prisoner.  The  play,  as  might  be  expected,  drew 
crowded  houses,  and  the  grateful  author  sent  Cartouche 
a  hundred  crowns  as  his  share  of  the  profits.  But  that 
worthy,  whose  vanity  had  at  first  been  flattered  by  the 
idea  of  figuring  as  the  hero  of  a  play,  now  complained 
that  the  piece  might  prejudice  his  case,  and,  after  the 
thirteenth  performance,  it  was  stopped  by  order  of  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police.  Le  Grand's  best  play  was  his  Roi 
de  Cocagne,  a  farcical  comedy  with  interludes  by  Jean 
Baptiste  Quinault,  which  had  a  great  vogue,  and  is 
highly  spoken  of  by  August  Wilhelm  von  Schlegel  in 
his  "  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and  Literature." 

Proud  of  her  little  niece's  talent,  Adrienne's  aunt 
mentioned  her  to  Le  Grand,  who,  after  hearing  the  girl 
recite,  at  once  perceived  the  great  future  which  lay 
before  her,  and  "decided  to  become  her  second  master, 
Nature  having  been  her  first."  He  accordingly  took 
her  to  live  with  him,1  gave  her  lessons,  and  found  her 
opportunities  for  acting  in  several  amateur  companies. 

1  Several  writers  have  stated  that  she  was  his  mistress,  but  this  is 
incorrect.  It  was  her  cousin,  the  laundress's  daughter,  who  occupied 
that  position. 


136      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Finally  he  persuaded  Robert  Couvreur,  whose  financial 
affairs  had  reached  a  very  parlous  state,  to  allow  his 
daughter  to  make  the  stage  her  profession. 

Knowing,  from  his  own  experience,  that  the  provinces 
were  the  best  school  and  the  nursery  for  the  Comedie- 
Fransaise,  Le  Grand  recommended  Adrienne  to  an  old 
colleague  of  his,  a  Mile.  Fonpre,  whose  husband  had 
formerly  been  manager  of  the  Brussels  theatre,  and  who 
had  just  obtained  from  the  magistrates  of  Lille  a  three 
years'  monopoly  of  dramatic  performances  in  that  town. 
Before  her  the  girl  recited  some  scenes  from  the  Cid, 
which  so  delighted  Mile.  Fonpre  that  she  engaged  her 
on  the  spot,  and  gave  her  permission  to  bring  her  father 
with  her  to  Flanders. 

Then  began  for  Adrienne  the  life  of  a  provincial 
actress,  which,  if  it  had  somewhat  improved  since  the 
days  of  the  Illustre  Theatre,  was  still  very  far  from 
being  a  bed  of  roses.  "  Mixture  of  hard  work  and  of 
compulsory  pleasure,"  says  M.  Larroumet,  "with  the 
companionships  of  the  coulisses,  the  persistent  attentions 
of  young  men  of  fashion  and  garrison  officers,  the  errors 
of  sentiment  and  conduct  which  were  the  consequence, 
and  the  repentance  and  disgust  which  followed,  it  was 
the  most  miserable  and  most  trying  to  which  a  refined 
nature  could  submit."  * 

For  ten  years,  that  is  to  say,  from  1706  to  1717, 
Adrienne  exploited  Flanders,  Lorraine,  and  Alsace,  now 
accepting  a  lengthy  engagement  at  some  important 
theatre,  now  journeying  with  some  travelling  company 
from  town  to  town,  acquiring  in  this  rude  apprentice- 
ship a  thorough  knowledge  of  her  art  and  a  particularly 
cruel  experience  of  life. 

1  Etudes  de  [literature  et  (T art  :   Adrienne  Lccouvreur,  p.   I  24. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  137 

At  Lille,  where  she  appears  to  have  remained  for 
about  three  years,  dramatic  performances  were  during 
several  weeks  carried  on  to  the  accompaniment  of  the 
cannon  of  a  besieging  army,  first,  under  the  Duke  of 
Marlborough,  and,  afterwards,  under  Prince  Eugene, 
to  whom  the  citadel  surrendered  on  October  28,  1708. 
On  one  occasion,  a  shell  exploded  within  a  few  paces 
of  the  theatre,  notwithstanding  which  the  performances 
were  as  well  attended  as  in  time  of  peace. 

After  leaving  Lille,  Adrienne  accepted  an  engage- 
ment as  "  leading  lady  "  at  the  theatre  at  Luneville,  and 
she  is  also  believed  to  have  played  at  Metz,  Nancy,  and 
Verdun.  Finally,  early  in  the  year  1711,  we  find  her 
occupying  a  similar  position  at  the  Strasburg  theatre,  one 
of  the  finest  houses  to  be  met  with  out  of  Paris,  with  a 
salary  of  two  thousand  livres,  a  considerable  sum  for 
those  days ;  and  here  she  seems  to  have  remained  until 
the  spring  of  1717,  when  she  returned  to  Paris  to  make 
her  debut  at  the  Comedie-Francaise. 

The  portrait  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  was  painted  by 
several  of  the  leading  artists  of  her  time:  Charles  Coypel, 
Fontaine,  H.  de  Troy  le  pere,  Jean  Baptiste  Van  Loo, 
and,  it  is  believed,  Nattier.  None  of  these  portraits, 
unfortunately,  have  come  down  to  us,  though  the  works 
of  the  two  first  painters  are  well  known  through  the 
engravings  of  Drevet  and  Schmidt. 

In  regard  to  the  merits  of  the  two  portraits,  there 
seems  to  be  considerable  difference  of  opinion.  Michelet, 
in  his  Histoire  de  France,  speaks  with  enthusiasm  of  the 
painting  by  Coypel,  reproduced  in  this  volume,  in  which 
Adrienne  is  represented  as  Cornelie  in  La  Mort  de  Pompee, 
weeping  over  the  urn  of  her  husband,  which  she  holds 
clasped  to  her  breast.  "She  must  have  exercised  a  terrible 


138      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

power  over  hearts,  to  have  been  able  to  transform  beasts 
into  men,  to  have  caused  the  feeble  and  mediocre  Coypel 
to  paint  such  a  portrait.  An  inspired  artist  of  our  time, 
our  first  sculptor,  Preault,  told  me  that  he  knew  not  a 
word  of  the  history  of  Mile.  Lecouvreur  when  he  saw 
this  engraving.  He  was  very  affected  by  it,  enraptured, 
and  he  seized  upon  it  greedily.  ...  It  is  more  than  a 
work  of  art,  it  is,  as  it  were,  a  dream  of  grief.  Those 
heavenly  eyes,  suffused  with  sublime  tears,  the  gesture  of 
those  arms  clasping  the  funeral  urn,  the  grief  expressed  by 
that  countenance,  the  silent  accusation  which  that  whole 
figure  brings  against  destiny,  all  make  of  this  picture  a 
unique  work,  an  honour  alike  to  painter  and  model." 

M.  Larruomet  agrees  with  Michelet :  "I,  for  my 
part,  am  of  opinion  that  if  Charles  Coypel,  as  a  rule 
an  artist  of  but  moderate  ability,  invented  the  pose  of 
this  portrait,  he  had,  by  chance,  an  inspiration  of  genius, 
and  that,  if  he  only  borrowed  it  from  the  actress,  she 
possessed  that  innate  sense  of  attitude  which  we  admire 
in  our  own  day  (1892),  in  M.  Mounet  -  Sully  and 
Madame  Sarah  Bernhardt,  and  which  alone  would  have 
sufficed  to  make  of  them  great  actors."  M.  Larroumet 
declares  the  portrait  to  possess  "the  incontestable  merit 
of  being  a  superb  work  of  art,"  and  greatly  prefers  it  to 
the  one  by  Fontaine,  which  shows  us  the  actress  "  en  robe 
de  chambre"  with  her  hair  dressed  in  the  fashion  of  the 
day.  In  the  latter  he  can  see  only  a  "  tableau  d'apparat" 
of  but  little  merit. 

On  the  other  hand,  Regnier,  M.  Maurice  Paleologue, 
and  M.  Georges  Monval,  to  the  last  of  whom  we  owe 
the  publication  of  Adrienne's  correspondence,  give  the 
preference  to  Fontaine's  work.  "It  is  a  truer,  a  more 
human,  a  more  lifelike,  a  more  familiar  Adrienne," 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  139 

remarks  M.  Monval,  who  stigmatises  the  portrait  by 
Coypel  as  "  a  fantastic  and  studied  picture,  a  tete  (T '  etude  ^ 
a  banal  figure,  under  which  one  might  equally  well 
inscribe  the  name  of  Magdalene  repentant,  or  of  Sophie 
Arnould." 

For  ourselves,  while  on  the  whole  inclined  to  endorse 
the  high  opinion  which  Michelet  and  M.  Larroumet  have 
formed  of  Coypel's  portrait,  we  cannot  but  think  that 
the  latter  has  unduly  depreciated  that  by  Fontaine,  which 
appears  to  us  both  pleasing  and  natural. 

However  that  may  be,  the  two  portraits,  in  all 
essential  respects,  are  far  from  dissimilar,  and  as  they 
accord  well  with  the  descriptions  of  the  actress  given  by 
contemporary  writers,  we  see  no  reason  to  doubt  the 
fidelity  of  either.  In  both  we  find  a  high  forehead,  fine 
eyes,  a  slightly  aquiline  nose,  a  well-shaped  mouth,  with 
the  rather  prominent  lower  lip  which  recalls  the  portraits 
of  princesses  of  the  House  of  Austria,  and  a  rounded 
chin ;  in  a  word,  the  features  of  a  very  pretty  woman. 

In  default  of  portraits  painted  or  engraved,  Adrienne's 
beauty  would  be  amply  attested  by  her  contemporaries. 
Not  that  the  testimony  in  her  favour  is  altogether 
unanimous,  as  M.  Paleologue  rather  boldly  asserts ;  to 
expect  unanimity  in  regard  to  the  appearance  of  a 
celebrated  actress,  whose  triumphs  must  of  necessity 
arouse  envy  and  jealousy  in  many  quarters,  would  be 
as  unreasonable  as  to  look  for  a  general  appreciation 
of  her  dramatic  talent.  But  the  number  of  those  who 
decline  to  admit  her  attractiveness  is  very  small,  and  not 
above  suspicion  of  prejudice,  while  the  evidence  to  the 
contrary  is  abundant  and  authoritative.  "  Without 
being  tall,"  wrote,  in  1719,  the  author  of  Les  Lettres 
historiques  sur  tous  les  spectacles  de  Paris ,  "  she  is  very 


1 40      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

well  made,  and  has  an  air  of  distinction,  which  pre- 
possesses one  in  her  favour ;  no  one  in  the  world  has 
more  charms.  Her  eyes  speak  as  much  as  her  mouth, 
and  often  supply  the  place  of  her  voice.  In  short,  I 
cannot  do  better  than  compare  her  to  a  miniature,  since 
she  has  agreeableness,  finesse,  and  delicacy." 

The  Mercure  confirms  this  portrait :  "  Mile.  Lecouv- 
reur  was  about  the  middle  height  and  admirably  formed, 
with  a  noble  and  confident  air,  a  well-poised  head  and 
shapely  shoulders,  eyes  full  of  fire,  a  pretty  mouth,  a 
slightly  aquiline  nose,  and  very  pleasing  manners ; 
although  not  plump,  her  face  was  somewhat  full,  with 
features  admirably  adapted  to  express  sorrow,  joy, 
tenderness,  fear,  and  pity."  l 

Nature,  besides  endowing  Adrienne  with  beauty,  had 
given  her  an  exceedingly  susceptible  heart.  Her  letters, 
published  some  years  ago  by  M.  Georges  Monval,  though, 
with  one  or  two  exceptions,  none  of  them  can  be  said  to 
come  within  the  category  of  love-letters,  reveal  an  ardent 
and  imperious  need  of  loving  and  being  loved.  "  due 
faire  au  monde  sans  aimer?"  she  writes  to  one  of  her 
friends;  and  these  words  might  very  well  have  been  taken 
as  her  motto. 

With  her,  however,  love  was  very  far  from  being  the 
consuming  fire  it  is  with  so  many  of  her  sex ;  she  was  of 
the  race  of  tender,  not  of  passionate  lovers ;  of  the  race, 
too,  of  those  who,  scorning  the  lighter  forms  of  gallantry, 
and  yet  unable  to  preserve  their  virtue,  are  so  often 
destined  to  bitter  disappointment,  disillusion,  and  re- 
morse. "  Relative  of  the  Monimes,  the  Berenices,  the 
La  Vallieres,  and  the  A'isses,"  says  M.  Paleologue,  in  his 

1  Le  Mercure  de  France,  March  1730. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  141 

fine  study  of  the  actress,  "  she  has  their  melting  tears, 
their  touching  grace,  and  their  voluptuous  modesty. 
But  her  true  originality  among  the  women  of  her  time 
lay  in  the  conception  that  she  formed  of  love.  We 
know  the  singular  change  that  this  sentiment  had  under- 
gone beneath  the  dissolving  influence  of  the  morals  of 
the  Regency ;  all  that  had  made  up  to  that  time  for  the 
nobility  and  poetry  of  passion  had  fallen  beneath  the 
blows  of  the  reigning  philosophy  and  the  persiflage  of 
the  salons.  In  this  transformation  the  woman  had  lost 
more  than  the  man.  She  had  been  taught  that  modesty 
and  fidelity  were  grandiloquent  words  devoid  of  mean- 
ing, and,  freeing  herself  from  all  romantic  illusion,  and 
clinging  only  to  the  positive  and  agreeable  in  her 
amorous  intrigues,  she  displayed  everywhere  a  cynical 
libertinism. 

"  It  was  the  honour  of  Adrienne  to  resist  this  con- 
tagion. The  gift  of  her  person  was  always  a  pledge  of 
the  heart.  She  loved  not  by  caprice,  not  by  vanity,  but 
by  a  moral  inclination,  with  an  ardour,  a  conscientious- 
ness, and  a  gravity  profound." l 

The  first  of  the  actress's  adorers  was  the  Baron 

D ,  a  young  officer  of  the  Regiment  de  Picardie, 

which  formed  part  of  the  garrison  of  Lille.  Of  him  we 
know  nothing,  save  that,  after  the  liaison  had  lasted  some 
months,  he  died  suddenly,  an  event  which  occasioned  his 
mistress  such  terrible  grief  that  she  is  said  to  have 
seriously  contemplated  destroying  herself.  To  the  baron 
succeeded  a  certain  Philippe  Le  Roy,  "  officer  of  the 
Duke  of  Lorraine,"  by  whom,  in  1710,  Adrienne  had  a 
daughter,  baptized  as  Elisabeth  Adrienne.  M.  Le  Roy, 
however,  appears  to  have  proved  fickle,  for,  soon  after- 

1   Profits  de  Femnus  :  Adrienne  Lecouvreur. 


1 42      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

wards,  we  hear  of  a  third  lover,  a  provincial  actor  named 
Clavel,  brother  of  Mile.  Fonpre. 

With  Clavel  Adrienne  corresponded,  and  two  of  her 
letters  to  him  have  fortunately  been  preserved,  the  only 
love-letters  of  this  woman  who  loved  so  much  that  have 
come  down  to  us.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the 
rest  of  this  correspondence  has  been  lost,  as  they  reveal 
the  actress  in  a  very  favourable  light :  warm-hearted, 
sincere,  loyal,  and  disinterested. 

The  first  letter,  written  some  time  in  the  year  1710, 
is  in  reply  to  one  from  Clavel,  which  she  has  been 
impatiently  awaiting : — 

"  I  have  at  last  received  that  letter  so  eagerly  antici- 
pated, and  for  which  I  have  been  astounding  Notre  Dame 
des  Carmes  with  my  prayers.  I  can  assure  thee,  my 
dear  friend,  that  I  have  had  no  rest  since  thy  departure, 
both  on  account  of  my  uneasiness  at  not  receiving  news 
of  thee  and  of  finding  myself  inconvenienced  as  I  am. 
I  hope  to  be  better  now,  since  I  have  reason  to  believe 
that  thou  lovest  me  still  and  that  thou  art  well.  Take 
care  of  thyself,  I  beg  of  thee,  since  thy  health  is  as 
precious  to  me  as  my  own.  I  shall  be  charmed  to  learn 
that  thou  art  enjoying  thyself,  provided  that  I  lose  by  it 
nothing  of  what  is  mine,  and  that  thou  dost  not  write  to 
me  less  often.  .  .  .  Assuredly,  I  believe  that  thou  hast  a 
kind  heart,  and,  consequently,  art  faithful  to  thy  poor 
Lecouvreur,  who  loves  thee  more  than  herself.  ...  I 
embrace  thee  with  all  the  tenderness  of  my  heart,  and 
swear  to  thee  a  constancy  proof  against  all  things." 

From  the  second  letter,  which  was  written  two  years 
later,  and  which  M.  Larroumet  declares  to  be  "  one  of 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  143 

the  tenderest  and  most  touching  letters  to  be  found  in 
literature,  real  or  imaginative,  worthy  of  comparison 
with  the  famous  letter  of  Manon  Lescaut"  it  would 
appear  that  Clavel  had  promised  to  marry  Adrienne,  or, 
at  least,  given  her  reason  to  believe  that  such  was  his 
intention ;  and  she  refers  to  the  matter  with  a  frankness, 
a  delicacy,  and  a  forgetfulness  of  self  rarely  met  with 
where  personal  interests  are  at  stake : — 

"  I  hardly  know  what  I  ought  to  think  of  your l 
neglect,  at  a  time  when  everything  ought  to  alarm  me. 
Be  always  persuaded  that  I  love  you  for  yourself  a 
hundred  times  more  than  on  my  own  account.  Time 
will  prove  to  you,  my  dear  Clavel,  what  I  swear  to  you 
to-day.  Entertain  for  me  the  sentiments  that  I  shall 
entertain  for  you  all  my  life,  for  all  my  ambition  is 
bounded  by  that.  With  all  the  attachment  that  I  have 
for  you,  I  should  be  in  despair  if  you  did  anything  for 
me  with  repugnance.  Reflect  well  that  you  are  still 
master.  Consider  that  I  have  nothing  and  that  I  owe  a 
great  deal,  and  that  you  will  find  greater  advantages  else- 
where. For  my  part,  I  have  nothing,  save  youth  and  good 
will,  but  that  does  not  adjust  matters.  I  speak  to  you 
plainly,  as  you  see,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  things  which 
are  able  to  make  you  think  of  me  as  one  whom  you 
ought  to  avoid.  Here  is  a  chance  to  take  your  own 
part.  Have  no  consideration.  Make  no  promise  that 
you  do  not  intend  to  keep ;  were  it  necessary  for  you  to 
promise  to  hate  me,  it  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be 
easier  for  me  to  bear  than  to  find  myself  deceived.  ...  I 
tell  you  again,  my  dear  Clavel,  that  your  interests  are 

1  Note  the  change  from  the  familiar  and  affectionate  "  ton  "  of  the 
previous  letter  to  the  formal  "  votre." 


i44      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

dearer  to  me  than  my  own.  Follow  the  course  which 
will  be  most  pleasing  to  you.  I  know  you  to  be  of  a 
disposition  which  will  prompt  you  to  behave  generously 
and  perhaps  to  surpass  me ;  but  yet  once  again  reflect 
well.  Act  like  the  honest  man  that  you  are  and  follow 
your  own  inclination,  without  troubling  about  the  pos- 
sible consequences.  I  shall  resign  myself,  by  some  means 
or  other,  as  well  as  I  can,  whether  I  gain  or  lose  you. 
If  I  have  you,  I  shall  have  the  sorrow  of  not  rendering 
you  as  happy  as  I  should  wish ;  my  own  happiness  will 
perhaps  make  me  forget  the  pain.  ...  If  I  lose  you,  I 
shall  strive  at  least  not  to  do  so  entirely,  and  I  shall  still 
retain  some  place  in  your  esteem.  If  you  are  happy,  I 
shall  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  that  I  have  not  pre- 
vented it ;  or,  if  you  are  not,  I,  at  any  rate,  shall  not  be 
the  cause,  and  I  shall  endeavour  in  some  way  to  console 
myself." 

The  result  of  Clavel's  reflections  was  that  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  marriage  with  a  young  woman 
who  "  had  nothing  and  owed  a  great  deal "  might  prove 
but  an  indifferent  bargain  for  an  ambitious  young  actor ; 
and  Adrienne,  after  a  somewhat  lengthy  period  of  soli- 
tude, accepted  the  protection  of  Comte  Fra^ois  de 
Klinglin,  son  of  the  prdteur  royal,  or  first  magistrate,  of 
Strasburg.  To  him,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1717, 
she  bore  a  second  daughter,  Catherine  Franchise  Ursule ; 
but  the  ill-fortune  which  had  attended  her  previous 
liaisons  still  pursued  her,  for,  almost  immediately  after 
this  event,  her  lover  abandoned  her,  in  order  to  contrac 
a  wealthy  marriage,  to  which  he  had  been  long  urged  by 
his  family. 

The  marriage  of  the  father  of  her  child  threw  poor 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  145 

Adrienne  into  the  depths  of  despair.  Too  proud  to 
reproach  him  with  his  perfidy,  and  yet  too  sensitive  to 
remain  to  witness  its  consummation,  she  determined  to 
leave  the  city,  which  must  henceforth  have  for  her  such 
painful  associations,  and,  having  obtained  permission  to 
make  her  dibitt  at  the  Comedie-Fransaise,  at  the  close  of 
the  theatrical  year,  she  set  out  for  Paris.  Her  two  chil- 
dren she  left  at  Strasburg,  where  she  had  them  educated 
with  great  care,  and  on  her  death,  in  1730,  made  ample 
provision  for  them.  The  elder,  daughter  of  Philippe  Le 
Roy,  afterwards  married  the  musician  Francceur  the 
younger,  who,  in  1757,  was  appointed  director  of  the 
Opera ;  the  younger,  daughter  of  the  faithless  Klinglin, 
became  the  wife  of  a  M.  Daudet  (or  Dauvet),  a  magis- 
trate at  Strasburg. 


It  was  on  May  14,  1717,  that  Adrienne  made  her 
first  appearance  before  the  Parisian  public,  in  the  title- 
part  in  the  Electre  of  Crebillon,  and  as  Angelique  in 
George  Dandin — that  is  to  say,  in  both  tragedy  and 
comedy.  Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  Czar,  Peter 
the  Great,  then  on  a  visit  to  Paris,  was  to  be  present  at 
the  Opera  that  evening,  the  house  was  crowded,  for  the 
debutante  had  brought  a  great  reputation  with  her  from 
the  provinces,  while  not  a  few  playgoers  remembered  her 
performances  when  a  child  at  Madame  du  Cue's  and  in 
the  Temple.  The  expectations  of  the  public  were  not 
disappointed.  "  Her  success  was  so  prodigious,"  writes 
d'Allainval,  "  that  it  was  remarked  that  she  had  begun 
as  great  actresses  usually  finish  "  ;  and  a  perfect  storm  of 
enthusiasm  followed  the  fall  of  the  curtain. 

Nor  did  the  heroine  of  the  evening  fail  to  confirm 

K 


146      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

the  advantage  she  had  gained.  A  few  days  later,  she 
gave  a  masterly  rendering  of  the  role  of  Monime  in 
Racine's  Mithridate,  which  will  be  remembered  as  one  of 
Mile,  de  Champmesle's  most  brilliant  creations,  speedily 
followed  by  other  triumphs  as  Berenice,  Irene  in  Andronic, 
Alcmene  in  Amphitryon^  and  Pauline  in  Polyeucte ;  and, 
on  June  20,  a  vacancy  having  in  the  meanwhile  arisen, 
she  was  received  into  the  company  and  allotted  a 
demi-part. 

For  thirteen  years,  that  is  to  say  until  her  death,  on 
March  20,  1730,  Adrienne  reigned  the  almost  unques- 
tioned queen  of  the  Comedie-Francaise,  passing  from 
triumph  to  triumph,  associating  her  name  with  a  great 
variety  of  characters  in  tragedy,  and  attaining  a  popu- 
larity with  the  playgoing  public  such  as  no  actress  had 
ever  before  enjoyed.  "  A  lofty  soul,  great  enthusiasm, 
constant  study,  a  passionate  love  for  her  art,"  says  Sainte- 
Beuve,  "all  combined  to  make  of  her  that  ideal  of  a 
great  tragedienne^  which  until  that  time  does  not  appear 
to  have  been  realised  to  this  degree.  Mile.  Duclos  was 
only  a  representative  of  the  declamatory  school,  and  if 
Mile.  Desmares  and  the  Champmesle  had  had  great  and 
splendid  parts,  they  certainly  never  attained  to  the  all- 
round  perfection  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur.  When  the 
latter  appeared,  she  had  no  other  model  than  her  own 
taste,  and  she  created."  * 

As  the  French  theatre  had  been  founded  in  imitation 
of  the  ancients,  without  much  regard  for  the  difference 
of  manners,  in  the  same  way,  its  dramatic  declamation 
was  ruled  by  obscure  traditions,  independently  of  the 
difference  in  languages.  When  at  the  theatre  of  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  the  art  had  hardly  freed  itself  from 

1   Cauteries  du  Lundi,  I.  161. 


ADRIENNE  LECOUVREUR  147 

its  first  awkwardness,  some  erroneous  ideas  of  the  elocu- 
tion of  the  Greeks  and  the  stage  system  of  the  Romans 
made  of  the  actor's  delivery  a  kind  of  measured  chant. 
Favoured  by  the  construction  of  the  verses  of  the  great 
seventeenth  century  dramatists  and  the  brilliant  successes 
of  Mile,  de  Champmesle,  this  monotonous  chant  passed 
from  the  Rue  Mauconseil  to  the  Comedie-Fransaise, 
where,  at  the  time  of  Adrienne's  appearance,  it  had 
become  so  firmly  established  that  to  the  great  majority 
of  the  company  and  a  large  number  of  their  patrons  any 
revolt  against  its  sway  seemed  something  like  sacrilege. 
So  long  as  Baron  had  remained  on  the  stage  some  check 
had  been  imposed  on  this  deplorable  custom,  for  Baron, 
educated  in  the  school  of  Moliere,  a  strenuous  advocate 
of  naturalness,  had  remained  faithful  to  the  traditions  of 
the  Palais-Royal.  But  his  abrupt  retirement,  in  1696,  in 
the  flower  of  his  age,  left  the  adherents  of  the  rival  school 
in  undisputed  possession  of  the  field,  and  for  more  than 
twenty  years  nothing  occurred  to  interfere  with  the  reign 
of  inflated  declamation,  which  was  carried  by  the  suc- 
cessors of  Mile,  de  Champmesle  to  lengths  which  pro- 
voked the  ridicule  and  disgust  of  foreign  visitors.1 

Adrienne's  phenomenal  success  was,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, due  to  the  fact  that  she  had  the  courage  and  good 
sense  to  break  with  the  old  traditions  of  the  theatre, 
and  abandon  this  stilted  and  artificial  style  of  elocution 
for  simpler  and  more  natural  modes  of  speech.  "The 
charming  Lecouvreur,"  wrote  the  Italian  actor  Riccoboni, 
the  jeune  premier  of  the  Comedie-Italienne,  in  his  didactic 
poem,  Deir  arte  rappresentativa,  "  is  the  only  one  who 
does  not  follow  the  road  along  which  all  her  comrades 
run  at  full  speed.  If  she  happens  to  weep  or  complain 

1    Lemontey,  Notice  sur  Adnenne  Lecouvreur. 


148      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

without  terrifying  us,  as  the  others  do  by  their  bawlings, 
she  touches  the  heart  so  profoundly,  that  we  become 
affected  with  her."  x 

This  natural  style  of  delivery  seems  to  have  been 
originally  imposed  upon  Adrienne  by  her  physique,  which 
was  more  delicate  than  vigorous.  Her  voice,  though 
singularly  pleasing,  was  not  remarkable  for  extent  and 
power,  like  Mile,  de  Champmesle's,  but  she  used  it 
with  such  consummate  skill  as  to  vary  its  modulations 
according  to  the  sentiments  she  desired  to  express. 
"  Although  her  voice  is  very  weak,"  says  the  author  of 
the  Lettres  historigues,  "  she  pleased  the  public  at  first, 
and  continues  to  please  it ;  because  it  finds  in  her  a  novel 
style,  natural  and  the  more  agreeable,  in  that  she  has 
studied  how  to  control  it  and  to  proportion  it  to  her 
strength ;  and  thus  one  might  say  that  the  weakness  of 
her  chest  has  contributed  to  this  kind  of  perfection." 
The  Mercure,  of  March  1730,  confirms  the  anonymous 
writer :  "  She  had  not  many  tones  in  her  voice,  but  she 
knew  how  to  lend  to  them  infinite  variety."  Moreover, 
she  seems  to  have  possessed  the  rare  gift  of  clearness  of 
pronunciation,  "  the  orthography  of  the  actor's  art,"  and 
seldom  indeed  had  so  pure  and  distinct  a  delivery  been 
heard  upon  the  stage. 

For  this  last  qualification  Adrienne  was  indebted  to 
the  counsels  of  C6sar  du  Marsais,  the  grammarian- 
philosopher,  as,  when  she  first  appeared  on  the  stage  of 
the  Com6die-Fran9aise,  her  pronunciation  was  far  from 
perfect ;  she  understood  the  true  meaning  of  the  words 
of  her  parts,  but  delivered  them  in  a  way  which  con- 
siderably discounted  their  value,  and  thus,  according  to 
Regnier,  touched  the  hearts,  and  irritated  the  ears  of 

1  Cited  by  M.  Georges  Monval,  Lettres  d1  Adrienne  Lccouvreur. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  149 

the  more  fastidious  critics  at  one  and  the  same  time. 
D'Allainval  relates  that  on  the  evening  of  her  dibut^ 
while  the  theatre  was  ringing  with  the  applause  of  the 
delighted  audience,  an  elderly  man,  seated  at  the  back  of 
a  box,  refrained  from  joining  in  the  general  enthusiasm, 
and  contented  himself  with  remarking  from  time  to 
time,  in  a  low  tone,  "  Bon,  cela ! "  His  behaviour  was 
much  commented  upon  by  those  who  sat  near  him,  and 
duly  reported  to  Adrienne,  who,  on  learning  that  it  was 
Du  Marsais,  became  curious  to  learn  the  reason  of 
the  qualified  approval  of  one  who  appeared  to  be  a 
critic  of  some  discernment,  and  accordingly  sent  him 
a  very  courteous  note  inviting  him  to  dine  with  her 
tete-a-t£tc. 

Du  Marsais  came,  but,  before  sitting  down  to  table, 
he  begged  the  actress  to  do  him  the  favour  of  reciting  a 
tirade  from  one  of  her  favourite  roles.  Adrienne  readily 
consented,  but  was  not  a  little  surprised  at  only  obtaining 
for  her  trouble  an  occasional  "  Bony  cela."  Mortified 
by  her  guest's  comparative  indifference  to  her  talents,  she 
inquired  in  what  she  had  failed  to  please  him.  "  Made- 
moiselle," replied  Du  Marsais,  "so  far  as  my  judgment 
goes,  no  actress  has  ever  given  promise  of  greater  talents 
than  yours,  and,  in  order  to  eclipse  probably  all  your 
predecessors,  I  will  venture  to  promise  that  all  that  is 
required  on  your  part  is  to  give  to  each  word  the  exact 
emphasis  necessary  to  express  its  meaning." 

Adrienne  begged  the  grammarian  not  to  be  sparing 
of  his  advice,  and,  following  it  religiously,  soon  succeeded 
in  correcting  her  faulty  pronunciation. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Adrienne  was  able  to 
effect  the  overthrow  of  a  style  of  elocution  which  had 
reigned  almost  unchallenged  since  the  foundation  of  the 


150      QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Comedie-Fran9aise  without  encountering  strenuous  and, 
in  some  cases,  acrimonious  opposition  from  its  many 
champions.  Mesdemoiselles  Duclos  and  Desmares, 
prompted,  no  doubt,  as  much  by  jealousy  of  the  new- 
comer as  by  loyalty  to  the  traditions  in  which  they  had 
been  trained,  were  particularly  bitter  in  their  resistance, 
and,  supported  by  the  Quinault  coterie,1  did  not  confine 
themselves  to  legitimate  protests  or  to  sustaining  against 
her  promising  debutantes,  but  subjected  the  young  actress 
to  a  variety  of  petty  persecutions.  Regnier,  in  his 
Souvenirs  et  etudes  du  theatre^  cites  a  number  of  extracts 
from  the  registers  of  the  Comedie,  from  which  it  appears 
that  a  favourite  practice  of  Adrienne's  enemies  was  to 
cause  her  to  be  fined  on  all  kinds  of  pretexts :  for  being 
late  for  rehearsal,  for  not  wearing  the  costume  prescribed 
for  her  part,  and  so  forth.  On  one  occasion,  a  kind 
colleague  inquired  if  she  were  aware  that  the  anagram  of 
her  name  was  Couleuvre  (viper) ;  and  during  the  run  of 
Voltaire's  Herode  and  Mariamne,  Mile,  de  Seine,  who, 
two  years  later,  became  the  wife  of  Quinault-Dufresne, 
carried  her  insolence  so  far  that  the  Gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber,  within  whose  jurisdiction  the  theatre  lay,  were 
obliged  to  interfere,  and  direct  the  semainiers,  as  a  number 
of  players  who  governed  the  theatre  in  rotation  were 
called,  "to  deduct  the  sum  of  one  hundred  livres  from 
the  share  of  Mile,  de  Seine,  for  unseemly  behaviour 
towards  Mile.  Lecouvreur,  and  to  give  her  warning  that 
she  would  be  dismissed  from  the  troupe  in  the  event  of 
a  repetition  of  the  offence." 

1  There  were,  at  this  period,  four  members  of  the  Quinault  family 
in  the  troupe  of  the  Comedie- Fran$aise :  two  brothers,  Jean  Baptiste 
Quinault  and  Abraham  Alexis  Quinuult-Dufresne,  and  two  si8ters} 
Marie  Anne  Quinault  and  Jeanne  Francjoise  Quinault. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  151 

The  climax  of  the  campaign  against  Adrienne  had, 
it  seems,  been  reached  some  time  before  this  incident. 
In  September  1723,  Philippe  Poisson,  a  retired  member 
of  the  Comedie-Fransaise,  submitted  to  the  company, 
under  a  nom  de  guerre^  a  comedy  in  one  act,  entitled 
r Actrice  nouvelle,  which  was  nothing  less  than  a  personal 
satire  on  Adrienne,  her  art,  and  her  private  life.  The 
play,  in  Adrienne's  absence,  was  read  to  the  assembled 
troupe  by  the  elder  Quinault,  who,  in  the  speeches 
assigned  to  the  heroine,  imitated  the  voice  and  gestures 
of  the  tragedienne  so  cleverly  as  to  send  the  lady's  enemies 
into  convulsions  of  merriment.  It  was  at  once  resolved 
to  accept  the  play,  and  Mile.  Duclos  and  her  friends 
doubtless  indulged  in  much  gleeful  anticipation  as  to 
what  their  rival's  feelings  would  be  when  she  found 
herself  publicly  caricatured  before  her  admirers  in 
the  boxes  and  pit.  Unfortunately  for  the  success  of 
this  malicious  scheme,  the  secret,  though  well  kept, 
leaked  out,  and  Adrienne  lost  no  time  in  bringing 
the  matter  to  the  notice  of  the  authorities,  who 
issued  an  order  forbidding  the  production  of  ly Actrice 
nouvelle. 

That  Adrienne  should  have  triumphed  so  completely 
as  she  did  over  tradition  and  jealousy  was  due  to  two 
causes.  In  the  first  place,  she  succeeded  in  securing  the 
immediate,  and  almost  unanimous,  approbation  of  the 
playgoing  public,  who,  when  afforded  an  opportunity 
of  comparing  the  rival  methods  of  elocution,  pronounced 
without  hesitation,  and  in  no  uncertain  way,  in  favour 
of  the  innovation.  The  second  was  the  unexpected 
intervention  of  Baron,  who,  in  April  1720,  at  the  age  of 
sixty-seven,  suddenly  resolved  to  return  to  the  scene  of 
his  many  triumphs,  and,  delighted  to  find  that  an  actress 


152      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

had  arisen  who  shared  his  own  views  on  the  subject  of 
elocution,  lent  her  all  the  encouragement  and  support 
in  his  power.  Aided  by  this  invaluable  ally,  Adrienne 
succeeded  in  effecting  a  veritable  revolution ;  the 
"  bawlings "  which  had  so  disgusted  the  Italian  actor 
Riccoboni  were  heard  no  more,  the  monotonous  chant 
was  banished,  and  in  its  place  reigned  "  a  declamation 
simple,  noble,  and  natural." l 

The  excellence  of  Adrienne's  delivery  was  equalled, 
if  not  surpassed,  by  her  really  wonderful  by-play.  Like 
Mile.  Moliere,  she  possessed  in  a  very  marked  degree 
the  difficult  art  of  listening,  the  extreme  mobility  of  her 
features  enabling  her  to  assume  at  will  every  shade  of 
emotion  and  exhibit  successively  the  different  impressions 
which  the  words  addressed  to  her  would  naturally  pro- 
duce. "  Perhaps  no  one,"  observes  the  Mercure,  "  has 
ever  so  well  understood  the  art  of  silent  scenes,  that  is 
to  say,  listened  so  well  and  so  well  expressed  the  sense 
of  the  words  uttered  by  the  actor  who  was  on  the  stage 
with  her ;  while  Dumas  d'Aigueberre  tells  us  that  "  her 
attitudes  were  noble  and  natural,  that  she  invested  the 
movements  of  her  arms  with  inimitable  grace,  and  that 
her  eyes  announced  what  she  was  about  to  say."  She 
possessed,  too,  a  very  rare  gift — the  art  of  concealing 
art,  of  entirely  subordinating  the  interpreter  to  the  work. 
The  dramatist  Colle,  a  critic  by  no  means  easy  to  please, 
it  may  be  remarked,  declares  that  "  her  treatment  of 
every  detail  of  a  role  was  perfect ;  and,  in  this  way, 
caused  one  to  forget  the  actress ;  one  saw  only  the 
personage  whom  she  happened  to  be  representing." 
Yet  another  trait,  and  one  which  provoked  general 
admiration,  was  the  rapidity  and  completeness  with 

1  Mercure  de  France,  March  1730. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  153 

which  she  passed  from  one  state  of  mind  to  its  exact 
opposite,  from  profound  grief  to  joyous  gaiety,  from 
frenzied  anger  to  moving  tenderness.  "  When  in  the 
role  of  Elisabeth," l  says  the  Mercure,  "she  learned  of 
the  love  of  the  Comte  d'Essex  for  the  Duchess  d'Irton ; 
when,  in  fact,  she  was  delivered  to  the  greatest  scorn 
which  a  woman,  and,  in  particular,  a  queen,  can  endure, 
with  what  sensibility  did  she  descend  from  the  height 
of  pride  to  the  extreme  of  the  greatest  tenderness, 
even  so  far  as  to  co-operate  with  the  duchess,  in  order 
to  save  the  count." 

Brilliant  tragedienne  though  Adrienne  undoubtedly 
was,  in  scenes  which  called  for  an  unusual  display  of 
passion,  her  acting  appears  to  have  left  a  good  deal  to 
be  desired,  a  circumstance  probably  attributable  to  her 
want  of  physical  strength.  According  to  Colle,  she 
"  excelled  in  scenes  where  the  greatest  finesse  was 
needed  rather  than  those  which  required  strength." 
Her  acting,  too,  was  somewhat  uneven ;  to  see  her  at 
her  best,  Dumas  d'Aigueberre  tells  us,  "  it  was  necessary 
for  her  to  be  animated  either  by  some  part  which  pleased 
her  or  by  some  object  of  interest."  In  fact,  though  no 
one  had  ever  given  such  magnificent  renderings  of  the 
roles  of  Monime  and  Berenice,  she  lacked  the  courage 
and  determination  which  had  enabled  Mile,  de  Champ- 
mesle  to  make  a  success  out  of  the  most  mediocre  part. 
The  receipts  of  the  Comedie-Fransaise  during  the  early 
years  of  its  existence  would,  we  are  inclined  to  think, 
have  been  much  less  satisfactory  had  it  fallen  to  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur's  lot  to  interpret  the  insipid  heroines  of 
Pradon  and  Boyer. 

The  principal  roles  created  by  Adrienne  in  tragedy 

1  In  Thomas  Corneille's  tragedy,  Le  Comte  d'Essex. 


154      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

were  Cleopatre  in  the  Antiochus  et  CUopatre  of  Des- 
champs,  Antigone  in  the  Machabtes  of  La  Motte, 
Zares  in  Esther,  Nitetis  in  Danchet's  play  of  that  name, 
Constance  in  La  Motte's  Ink  de  Castro,  and  the  title- 
part  in  Voltaire's  Mariamne. 

The  last-named  play  failed,  owing  to  one  of  those 
little  incidents  so  common  to  the  French  stage  of  that 
day.  At  the  moment  when  Mariamne,  condemned  to 
death  by  poison,  was  on  the  point  of  raising  the  fatal 
cup  to  her  lips,  a  wag  in  the  pit  cried  out,  "  La  Reine 
boit"  a  sally  which  was  followed  by  such  merriment  that 
the  indignant  actors  declined  to  finish  the  play.  Re- 
written by  Voltaire,  who  this  time  prudently  made  the 
death  of  the  heroine  take  place  off  the  stage,  it  reappeared 
a  year  later,  under  the  title  of  Herode  et  Mariamne,  when 
it  had  twenty-eight  representations,  and  when  played 
before  the  Court  at  Fontainebleau,  moved  the  young 
Queen,  Marie  Leczinska,  to  tears. 

It  was  during  the  run  of  Mariamne,  in  its  revised 
form,  that  the  quarrel  between  Voltaire  and  the  Chevalier 
de  Rohan,  second  son  of  the  Due  de  Rohan-Chabot,  took 
place.  The  poet  and  the  chevalier  were  with  several 
other  persons  in  Adrienne's  dressing-room  at  the  theatre; 
Voltaire  was  giving  the  company  the  benefit  of  his  views 
on  dramatic  art  or  some  other  subject.  "  Who  is  that 
young  man  who  talks  so  loud  ? "  cried  Rohan,  who  was 
in  love  with  Adrienne  and  very  probably  jealous  of  the 
friendship  existing  between  her  and  the  poet.  "  He  is 
one  who  does  not  carry  about  a  great  name,  but  earns 
respect  for  the  name  he  has,"  was  the  retort.  The 
chevalier  raised  his  cane  threateningly ;  Voltaire  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  sword ;  Adrienne  promptly  sank 
down  in  a  swoon,  or,  perhaps,  since  she  was  an  actress, 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  155 

in  a  pretended  swoon ;  both  gentlemen  hastened  to  her 
assistance,  and  the  quarrel  ceased.  How,  a  few  days 
later,  Rohan  caused  Voltaire  to  be  cudgelled  by  his 
lackeys ;  how  the  enraged  poet,  after  taking  a  course 
of  fencing  lessons,  challenged  his  enemy  to  a  duel,  and 
how,  in  consequence,  he  was  packed  off  to  the  Bastille, 
for  the  second  time,  are  incidents  too  well  known  to 
require  relation  here.1 

In  comedy  Adrienne  appears  to  have  fallen  very  far 
short  of  the  high  standard  she  attained  as  a  tragedienne. 
"She  only  played  and  shone  in  a  few  roles,"  says  the 
Mercure.  The  registers  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  show 
that  she  attempted  Celimene,  "the  touchstone  of  granges 
coquettes"  and  Elmire  in  Tartuffe ;  but,  as  she  only  figures 
nine  times  in  the  former  character  and  four  times  in  the 
latter,  we  may  presume  that  her  rendering  of  them  could 
not  have  been  more  than  moderately  successful.  She 
gave,  however,  a  very  pleasing  interpretation  of  Alcmene 
in  Amphitryon,  and  Hortense  in  Le  Florentin,  in  which 
character  she  made  her  last  appearance  on  the  stage,  and, 
as  Angelique,  had  a  large  share  in  the  success  of  Piron's 
Fils  ingrats ;  while  to  her  acting  in  the  part  of  the 
heroine,  Voltaire  was  much  indebted  for  the  favourable 
reception  accorded  to  his  little  comedy  rindiscret.  On 
the  other  hand,  as  the  Marquise,  in  Marivaux's  Surprise  de 
r amour,  she  seems  to  have  come  very  near  to  an  absolute 
failure,  the  critics  accusing  her  of  giving  to  what  the 
author  intended  to  be  a  gay  and  frivolous  character  an 
air  of  solemnity  and  dignity  more  befitting  a  tragedy 
queen. 

Several   writers    have    asserted    that    Adrienne,    not 

1  According  to  another  version  of  this  affair,  it  was  the  challenge, 
and  not  the  quarrel,  which  took  place  in  Adrienne's  dressing-room. 


156      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

content  with  introducing  a  more  natural  mode  of 
enunciation,  was  the  pioneer  of  reform  in  theatrical 
costume.  This  is  only  partially  true.  Adrienne  pos- 
sessed excellent  taste  in  dress,  and  was  keenly  alive  to 
the  absurdity  of  clothing  the  heroes  and  heroines  of 
antiquity  in  the  costume  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
But  her  attempts  in  the  direction  of  archaeological  truth 
do  not  appear  to  have  been  very  bold  or  to  have  met 
with  much  success ;  and  the  first  important  transforma- 
tion in  this  respect  was  due  to  the  efforts  of  Mile.  Clairon 
and  Lekain.  She  played,  however,  Queen  Elizabeth,  in 
the  Comte  d'Essex,  "in  an  English  Court  costume 
decorated  with  the  blue  riband  of  the  Garter,"  and  the 
inventory  of  her  wardrobe,  published  by  M.  Georges 
Monval,  in  his  edition  of  her  letters,  comprise  "  douze 
habits  a  la  romaine  " — or  what  were  believed  to  be  such 
— of  which  two  were  of  white  damask,  two  of  crimson 
velvet,  one  of  yellow  satin,  one  of  blue  velvet,  two  of 
white  satin,  and  one  of  crimson  damask,  probably  that 
worn  by  Cornelie  in  the  Mort  de  Pompte.  Several  of 
these  costumes  were  very  richly  wrought  and  realised 
prices  varying  from  eight  hundred  to  a  thousand  livres, 
equivalent,  of  course,  to  much  larger  sums  in  money  of 
to-day.  The  full  description  of  one  of  them  may  not  be 
without  interest :  "  Item,  another  costume  a  la  romaine 
of  cherry-coloured  velvet,  composed  of  a  train  trimmed 
with  Spanish  point  and  with  bunches  of  flowers  in  the 
train ;  a  petticoat  of  the  same  velvet  trimmed  with  silver 
Spanish  point ;  the  body  of  the  dress  of  the  same  material 
trimmed  with  silver  Spanish  point,  and  shoulder-knots 
likewise  trimmed  with  Spanish  point ;  silver  fringes 
encircling  the  shoulder-knots ;  and  two  little  amadisy 
also  trimmed  with  silver  Spanish  point." 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  157 

It  is  curious  to  note,  remarks  M.  Larroumet,  the 
different  ideas  of  what  constituted  a  correct  classical 
costume  which  prevailed  at  various  times  on  the  French 
stage.  Thus,  from  the  beginning  of  the  pseudo-classical 
revival  in  art  down  to  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  the  tendency  was  all  towards  simplicity,  and 
Rachel  delighted  her  audiences  in  severely  simple  robes 
sparsely  embroidered  with  gold  and  silver.  Then  came 
the  discovery  that  the  ancients,  so  far  from  affecting  the 
austerity  in  dress  with  which  they  had  so  long  been 
credited,  had  had  a  weakness  for  rich  stuffs  and  costly 
ornaments,  with  the  result  that  the  costumes  of  the 
Phedres  and  Athalies  of  to-day  bear  a  much  closer 
resemblance  to  the  satins  and  velvets  of  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur  than  the  woollen  gowns  of  Rachel.1 

The  jealousy  with  which  Adrienne  was  regarded  by 
her  colleagues  at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  was  not  due 
solely  to  her  professional  success ;  besides  being  idolised 
by  the  public,  she  had  obtained  for  herself  a  social 
position  which  had  never  been  accorded  to  any  of  her 
predecessors.  At  this  period,  actors  and  actresses  still 
remained  on  the  borders  of  society.  If  exceptionally 
handsome  or  talented,  they  were  flattered  and  caressed 
by  the  beau  mondey  taken  for  mistresses,  or  lovers,  or 
boon  companions ;  but  access  to  regular  society  was 
denied  them.  The  extreme  license  of  morals  which 
characterised  the  Regency  brought  with  it  no  change  in 
this  respect ;  and  if,  now  and  again,  some  grande  dame 
chose  to  visit  or  receive  a  member  of  the  theatrical 
profession,  the  interview  almost  invariably  took  place 
in  private  and  often  surreptitiously. 

1  £tudes  de  litterature  et  d'art  :  Adrienne  Lecouvreur^  p.  141. 


158      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

That  so  rigid  a  rule  should  have  been  relaxed  in 
favour  of  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  and  of  her  alone,  is 
a  very  remarkable  fact  and  a  striking  tribute  to  the 
charm  which  she  must  have  exercised  over  her  own 
as  well  as  over  the  opposite  sex.  There  can,  however, 
be  little  doubt  that  a  very  great  gulf  divided  her  from 
her  colleagues.  Not  only  was  she  beautiful  and  fas- 
cinating, but  well-read,  well-mannered,  modest,  and 
unaffected,  and  a  friend  in  whose  discretion  implicit 
reliance  could  be  imposed.  She  numbered  among  her 
friends  a  princess  of  the  blood,  the  Duchesse  du  Maine, 
the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Gesvres,  Madame  de  Pom- 
ponne,  Madame  de  Fontame-Martel,  the  wife  of  President 
Berthier,  the  celebrated  Marquise  de  Lambert,  admission 
to  whose  very  exclusive  "  Tuesdays  and  Wednesdays " 
conferred  a  sort  of  brevet  of  social  distinction,  d'Argental 
and  Maurice  de  Saxe,  of  both  of  whom  we  shall  have 
a  good  deal  to  say  presently,  the  Due  de  Richelieu,  the 
Comte  de  Caylus,  La  Chalotais,  and  Pont-de-Veyle,  not 
to  speak  of  men  of  letters,  like  Du  Marsais,  Fontenelle, 
Voltaire,  and  Piron. 

With  all  of  these  persons,  and  many  others,  Adrienne 
was  not  only  on  friendly  but  on  intimate  terms,  dining 
and  supping  with  them  frequently  and  visiting  them  at 
their  country-houses,  and  giving,  in  return,  charming 
little  suppers,  before  each  of  which,  with  singular  tact, 
she  invariably  requested  the  guest  of  the  evening  to  select 
those  whom  she  desired  to  meet. 

According  to  Titon  du  Tillet,  it  was  Adrienne  who 
introduced  the  custom  of  actresses  reciting  at  private 
houses.  "  Mile.  Lecouvreur,"  says  he,  "  who  was  in 
great  request  at  the  best  houses  in  Paris  and  at  the 
Court,  did  not  refuse  in  the  assemblies  which  she 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  159 

attended  to  declaim  some  fine  tirades  in  verse,  and 
even  whole  scenes  from  tragedies,  which  delighted  her 
hearers.  It  was  a  very  rare  thing  for  persons  of  her 
profession  to  recite  verses  outside  the  theatre,  and  I 
have  hardly  known  any  one,  save  Baron,  who  gave  people 
this  pleasure." 

Unfortunately  for  Adrienne,  her  social  duties,  com- 
bined with  the  arduous  work  of  her  profession,  seem  to 
have  imposed  too  great  a  tax  upon  her  strength,  and  in 
her  letters  to  her  friends  she  complains  constantly  of  the 
strain  of  this  double  life.  The  following  letter,  written 
in  May  1728,  probably  to  Maurice  de  Saxe,  gives  us 
an  excellent  insight  into  her  character  and  also  into  the 
life  of  a  "  society  "  actress.  Allowing  for  the  difference 
in  style,  it  might  just  as  well  have  been  written  in  the 
twentieth  as  in  the  eighteenth  century : — 

"  I  spend  three  parts  of  my  time  in  doing  that  which 
displeases  me  ;  new  acquaintances,  whom,  however,  it  is 
impossible  to  escape,  so  long  as  I  remain  tied  as  I  am, 
preventing  me  from  cultivating  the  old  or  from  occupy- 
ing myself  at  home  as  I  should  like  to  do.  It  is  an 
established  custom  for  them  to  sup  or  dine  with  me, 
because  some  duchesses  have  done  me  this  honour. 
There  are  persons  whose  kindness  and  graciousness 
charm  me,  and  they  are  sufficient  for  me,  but  I  am  unable 
to  devote  myself  to  them,  because  I  am  a  public  person- 
age, and  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  reply  to  all  those  who 
are  desirous  of  making  my  acquaintance,  or  else  be  con- 
sidered impertinent.  However  careful  I  am,  I  am  con- 
tinually offending  people.  If  my  poor  health,  which  is 
delicate,  as  you  know,  obliges  me  to  refuse  or  to  fail 
some  party  of  ladies  whom  I  have  never  seen,  and  who 


160      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

have  no  interest  in  me  beyond  curiosity  :  '  Assuredly,'  says 
one,  *  she  has  a  marvellous  opinion  of  her  importance  ! ' 
Another  adds  :  '  It  is  because  we  are  not  titled  ! '  If  I 
happen  to  be  serious,  for  one  cannot  be  very  gay  with 
many  people  one  does  not  know :  '  Is  this  the  girl  who 
has  so  much  wit  ? '  says  one  of  the  company.  '  Don't 
you  see  that  she  despises  us,'  says  another,  '  and  that  one 
must  know  Greek  in  order  to  please  her  ? '  *  She  visits 
Madame  de  Lambert,'  exclaims  a  third  ;  '  does  not  that 
explain  the  mystery  ? '  I  am  still  full  of  spiteful  speeches 
of  this  kind,  and  more  occupied  than  ever  in  my  desire 
to  become  free  and  to  have  no  longer  to  pay  court,  save 
to  those  who  really  will  entertain  a  kind  feeling  for  me, 
and  will  satisfy  my  heart  and  my  mind.  My  vanity  does 
not  find  that  numbers  atone  for  merit  in  persons,  and  I 
have  no  desire  to  shine.  To  keep  my  lips  closed  and 
listen  to  good  conversation,  to  find  myself  in  the  delight- 
ful society  of  clever  and  virtuous  people,  is  a  hundred 
times  more  pleasant  to  me  than  to  be  stunned  by  all  the 
insipid  praises  which  they  lavish  upon  me  right  and  left 
in  many  places  to  which  I  go.  It  is  not  that  I  am  want- 
ing in  gratitude  or  in  the  wish  to  please,  but  I  find  that 
the  approbation  of  fools  is  not  flattering,  and  that  it 
becomes  burdensome  when  it  has  to  be  purchased  by 
individual  and  repeated  complaisances." 

From  the  above  letter,  it  will  be  seen  that  Adrienne's 
tastes  lay  in  the  direction  of  a  retired  and  peaceful  life 
in  the  midst  of  a  small  circle  of  chosen  friends,  and  that 
the  wearisome  round  of  social  pleasures  possessed  but  few 
attractions  for  her.  In  her  exquisitely  furnished  house 
in  the  Rue  des  Marais — the  same  in  which  Mile,  de 
Champmesle  and,  after  her,  Racine  had  formerly  lived, 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  161 

and  which,  in  later  years,  was  to  become  the  residence  of 
Mile.  Clairon — she  spent  the  greater  part  of  her  scanty 
leisure,  her  favourite  occupations  being  reading  and 
music.  She  possessed  a  small  but  excellent  library,  con- 
taining some  four  hundred  volumes,  dramatic  literature 
and  memoirs  and  historical  works  predominating.  Among 
the  former  were  complete  editions  of  the  plays  of  Moliere 
and  Racine  ;  among  the  latter  Echard's  Histoire  Romaine, 
Daniel's  Histoire  de  France^  Les  Revolutions  cC  Anghterre 
by  Pere  d 'Or leans,  and  the  Memoires  of  Madame  de 
Motteville.1 

That  Adrienne  should  have  numbered  among  her 
friends  of  the  opposite  sex  several  who  were  desirous 
of  establishing  a  closer  relationship  with  the  charming 
actress  was,  of  course,  only  to  be  expected.  Barbier,  in 
his  Journal,  asserts  that  one  Prungent,  intendant  of  the 
Duchess  of  Brunswick,  was  her  lover,  and  had  "  squan- 
dered with  her  the  money  of  the  princess  " ;  while  other 
contemporary  writers  mention  in  the  same  connection  the 
celebrated  Lord  Peterborough,  the  Chevalier  de  Rohan, 
and  Voltaire. 

Voltaire  had  been  one  of  the  first  to  appreciate  both 
the  talents  and  personal  qualities  of  Adrienne,  and  in 
a  letter  to  Thieriot,  written  shortly  after  the  actress's 
untimely  death,  he  declares  himself  to  have  been  "  her 
admirer,  her  friend,  her  lover."  The  biographers  of  the 
lady  are  divided  in  opinion  as  to  whether  this  last  term 
is  to  be  taken  in  its  literal,  or  in  its  platonic  and  poetic 
sense ;  but  whatever  may  have  been  the  relations  between 
the  tragedienne  and  the  writer,  it  is  certain  that  Adrienne 
found  in  Voltaire  one  of  the  firmest  and  most  devoted 

1  Lettres  if  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  by  M.  Georges  Monval,  p.  252. 

L 


1 62      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

of  her   friends,  who   is    undoubtedly    sincere    when   he 
reminds  her 

"  De  la  pauvre  amiti£  que  son  coeur  a  pour  elle," 

and  who  remained  tenderly  attached  to  her  to  the  last 
hour  of  her  life. 

However,  even  if  Adrienne  yielded  in  favour  of  a 
dramatic  author  to  the  customs  of  her  profession,  or,  as 
Lemontey  expresses  it,  was  "bound  to  Voltaire  by  the 
ties  of  glory  and  of  love  which  in  the  preceding  century 
had  united  Racine  and  the  Champmesle,"  it  is  improbable 
that  either  of  the  other  persons  mentioned  were  anything 
more  than  admirers.  The  actress's  early  experiences  of 
the  tender  passion  had,  as  we  have  seen,  been  singularly 
bitter ;  the  selfishness  of  man  had  inflicted  upon  her  the 
most  cruel  of  humiliations  for  a  loving  and  sensitive 
woman,  that  of  being  cast  aside  like  a  broken  toy  when 
she  had  surrendered  herself  in  the  most  absolute  confi- 
dence, and  she  had  come  to  Paris  firmly  resolved  to 
remain  henceforth  mistress  of  her  heart  and  her  actions. 
The  letters  published  by  M.  Monval  show  that,  during 
the  first  three  years  of  her  residence  in  the  capital,  she 
replied  to  several  declarations  of  love  by  offers  of  friend- 
ship, explaining  her  ideas  on  the  subject  with  singular 
frankness. 

"  If  I  am  unable  to  render  you  more  happy,"  she 
writes  to  one  of  her  soupirants,  "  I  am  more  grieved  than 
you  yourself.  I  reproach  myself.  I  tell  myself,  without 
doubt,  more  than  you  can  tell  me  ;  but  I  could  not  deceive 
you.  Caprices  do  not  agree  with  reason,  and  love  is 
nothing  else  but  a  folly  which  I  detest,  and  to  which  I 
shall  strive  hard  not  to  surrender  myself  so  long  as  I  live. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  163 

You  will  understand  it  yet,  and  the  severity  with  which  I 
have  treated  you  will  serve  then  only  to  render  you  more 
happy.  Permit  me  to  approach  the  matter  with  you,  and 
to  offer  you  my  counsels.  Be  my  friend  ;  I  am  worthy 
of  that,  but  choose  for  mistress  one  who  possesses  a  heart 
quite  untampered  with  ;  who  has  not  yet  repented  of  that 
trust  which  renders  everything  so  beautiful ;  who  has  been 
neither  betrayed  nor  deserted ;  who  believes  you  such  as 
you  are,  and  all  men  such  as  you.  Let  her  be  young  and 
rather  strong  ;  she  will  be  the  less  sensitive.  Finally,  see 
that  she  gives  to  you  as  much  constancy  as  I  should  have 
given,  if  I  had  never  loved  any  one  save  you." 

Among  the  adorers  whom  Adrienne  rejected,  and 
whose  friendship  she  nevertheless  succeeded  in  retaining 
through  life,  was  the  Marquis  de  la  Chalotais,  whose 
famous  quarrel  with  Madame  du  Barry's  protige^  the 
Due  d'Aiguillon,  convulsed  all  France  during  the  last 
years  of  Louis  XV.  The  future  Advocate-General  of 
the  Parliament  of  Brittany  was,  at  the  time  when  he 
made  Adrienne's  acquaintance,  a  gay  young  abb£  and  a 
great  frequenter  of  the  Comedie-Francaise,  where  he  paid 
assiduous  court  to  its  chief  divinity,  but  without  obtaining 
anything  save  her  friendship  and  esteem.  Having  suc- 
ceeded to  the  family  title  and  become  Advocate-General 
at  Rennes,  he  continued  to  correspond  with  his  former 
enchantress,  and  was  in  the  habit  of  sending  her  a  present 
every  year.  Only  nine  days  before  her  death,  Adrienne 
wrote  him  a  charming  letter,  thanking  him  for  his  gift 
and  assuring  him  of  her  lasting  regard  : — 

"  When  one  has  been  acquainted  with  a  person  for  ten 
or  twelve  years,  and  has  a  kind  of  attachment  for  him 


164      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

which  is  proof  against  separation  and  ought  not  to  injure 
any  one,  one  may  speak  without  restraint.  I  assure  you, 
then,  that  I  love  you  as  much  as  I  esteem  you,  that  I  pray 
for  your  happiness  and  that  of  all  belonging  to  you,  and 
I  entreat  you  to  retain  for  me  remembrance  and  more." 

In  his  letter,  La  Chalotais  had  expressed  regret  that  it 
was  impossible  for  him  to  take  lessons  in  declamation  from 
Adrienne  ;  and  the  actress  concludes  by  very  modestly 
defining  her  own  method  of  elocution,  and  giving  her 
friend  some  very  excellent  advice  on  the  subject : — 

"  You  say  that  you  would  like  me  to  teach  you  the 
art  of  declamation,  of  which  you  stand  in  need.  You 
have  then  forgotten  that  I  do  not  declaim.  The  sim- 
plicity of  my  acting  is  my  one  poor  merit ;  but  this 
simplicity,  which  chance  has  turned  to  my  advantage, 
appears  to  me  indispensable  to  a  man  in  your  profession. 
The  first  requisite  is  intelligence,  and  that  you  have ;  the 
next,  to  allow  beneficent  Nature  to  do  her  work.  To 
speak  with  grace,  nobility,  and  simplicity,  and  to  reserve 
all  your  energies  for  the  argument,  are  what  you  will  say 
and  do  better  than  any  man." 

An  admirer  whom  Adrienne  had  infinitely  more 
difficulty  in  persuading  to  be  content  with  friendship 
than  La  Chalotais  was  Voltaire's  faithful  ally,  d'Argental. 
D'Argental,  who  was  then  a  lad  scarcely  out  of  his  teens, 
conceived  for  the  actress  a  most  violent  passion,  and, 
though  the  latter  repeatedly  assured  him  that  friendship 
was  all  she  had  to  bestow,  for  long  refused  to  abandon 
hope. 

In  the  meantime,  his  infatuation  had  become  common 
knowledge,  and  his  family,  forgetting  La  Rochefoucauld's 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  165 

maxim  that  absence,  while  extinguishing  feeble  passions, 
only  adds  fuel  to  great  ones,  sent  him  to  England  in  the 
hope  that  separation  might  effect  a  cure.  With  the  con- 
sent of  his  mother,  Madame  de  Ferriol,  Adrienne  wrote 
him  long  and  frequent  letters,  carefully  avoiding,  however, 
the  forbidden  topic,  her  object  being  to  accustom  him  to 
regard  her  merely  as  a  friend.  But  these  epistles  appear 
to  have  had  a  very  different  effect  from  the  one  intended 
by  the  writer  ;  the  cure  made  no  progress,  and  the 
young  man's  family,  fearing  that  the  actress  was  but 
simulating  indifference  in  order  to  augment  his  passion 
to  the  point  of  offering  her  marriage,  resolved  to  remove 
him  altogether  out  of  reach  of  his  enchantress  by  banish- 
ing him  to  St.  Domingo. 

However,  no  such  drastic  measures  were  necessary, 
for  Adrienne,  learning  of  what  was  intended,  lost  no  time 
in  writing  to  the  anxious  mother  a  most  charming  letter, 
which  had  the  effect  of  completely  allaying  her  appre- 
hensions on  the  young  gentleman's  behalf.  As  all  the 
actress's  biographers  concur  in  pronouncing  this  letter  to 
be  the  pearl  of  her  correspondence,  we  need  make  no 
apology  for  transcribing  it  at  length  : — 

"  PARIS,  March  22,  1721. 

"  Madame, — I  cannot  learn  without  being  deeply 
pained  of  your  anxiety  and  of  the  resolves  with  which 
this  anxiety  has  inspired  you.  I  might  add  that  I  have 
been  not  less  grieved  by  learning  that  you  blame  my 
conduct ;  but  I  write  to  you  less  to  justify  it  than  to 
protest  that  for  the  future,  in  all  that  concerns  you, 
it  shall  be  such  as  you  may  wish  to  prescribe.  I  had 
requested  permission  to  see  you  last  Tuesday,  with  the 
intention  of  speaking  to  you  in  confidence  and  of  asking 


1 66      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

you  for  your  commands.  But  your  reception  of  me 
destroyed  my  ardour,  and  I  found  myself  only  timid 
and  sad.  It  is  necessary,  however,  that  you  should  be 
aware  of  my  true  sentiments,  and,  if  you  will  permit  me 
to  add  something  further,  that  you  should  not  disdain 
to  listen  to  my  very  humble  remonstrances,  if  you  do 
not  wish  to  lose  your  son. 

"  He  is  the  most  respectful  youth  and  the  most 
honest  man  that  I  have  met  in  my  life.  You  would 
admire  him  did  he  not  belong  to  you.  Once  again, 
Madame,  deign  to  co-operate  with  me  in  destroying  a 
weakness  which  irritates  you,  and  in  which  I  have  no 
part,  whatever  you  may  say.  Do  not  show  him  either 
contempt  or  harshness.  I  would  prefer  to  take  upon 
myself  all  his  hatred,  in  spite  of  the  friendship,  affection, 
and  veneration  that  I  entertain  for  him,  than  expose  him 
to  the  least  temptation  which  might  cause  him  to  fail 
in  respect  towards  you.  You  are  too  interested  in 
curing  him  not  to  strive  earnestly  to  attain  your  object ; 
but  you  are  too  much  so  to  succeed  in  attaining  it 
unaided,  above  all,  when  you  endeavour  to  combat  his 
inclination  by  the  exercise  of  your  authority,  or  by 
painting  me  in  disadvantageous  colours,  whether  true  or 
not.  His  passion  must  indeed  be  an  extraordinary  one, 
since  it  has  existed  so  long  without  the  least  hope,  in 
the  midst  of  disappointments,  in  spite  of  the  journeys 
you  have  made  him  undertake,  and  during  eight  months' 
residence  in  Paris,  during  which  he  never  saw  me,  at 
least  not  at  my  house,  and  was  unaware  if  I  should  ever 
receive  him  again.  I  conceived  him  to  be  cured,  and,  for 
that  reason,  consented  to  see  him  during  my  last  illness. 
It  is  easy  to  believe  that  his  society  would  afford  me 
infinite  pleasure,  were  it  not  for  this  unhappy  passion, 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  167 

which  astonishes  as  much  as  it  flatters  me,  but  of  which 
I  decline  to  take  advantage.  You  fear  that,  if  he  sees 
me,  he  will  depart  from  his  duty,  and  you  carry  this  fear 
to  such  a  point  as  to  take  violent  resolutions  against 
him.  Assuredly,  Madame,  it  is  not  just  that  he  should 
be  rendered  unhappy  in  so  many  ways.  Do  not  add 
anything  to  my  severity ;  seek  rather  to  console  him ; 
make  all  his  resentment  fall  on  me,  but  let  your  kind- 
ness serve  to  reassure  him. 

"  I  will  write  to  him  whatever  you  please  ;  I  will 
never  see  him  again,  if  such  is  your  wish  ;  I  will  even 
withdraw  to  the  country,  if  you  consider  it  necessary. 
But  do  not  threaten  to  send  him  to  the  end  of  the 
world.  He  may  be  of  service  to  his  country  ;  he  will 
be  the  delight  of  his  friends ;  he  will  fill  you  with 
pride  and  satisfaction.  You  have  only  to  guide  his 
talents,  and  leave  his  virtues  to  act  for  themselves. 
Forget  for  a  time  that  you  are  his  mother,  if  this 
character  is  opposed  to  the  kindness  that,  on  my  knees, 
I  beg  you  to  extend  to  him.  Finally,  Madame,  you 
will  see  me  prefer  to  retire  from  the  world,  or  to  love 
him  with  the  love  of  passion,  rather  than  to  suffer  him 
to  be  any  more  tormented  for  me  or  by  me." 

Adrienne  did  not  speak  of  this  letter  to  her  adorer, 
neither  did  Madame  de  Ferriol  deem  it  advisable  to 
communicate  it  to  him;  and  its  existence,  in  consequence, 
remained  unknown  to  d'Argental  until  sixty-three  years 
later,  when  he  discovered  it  by  accident  among  some  old 
papers  which  had  belonged  to  his  mother. 

We  may  well  believe  that  the  old  man  shed  many 
tears  over  those  faded  pages,  for  Adrienne,  while 
refusing  him  her  love,  had  succeeded  in  making  him 


1 68      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

the  most  faithful  and  devoted  of  all  her  friends.  The 
process  of  transition,  seldom  an  easy  one,  had  been 
rendered  the  more  difficult,  inasmuch  as,  shortly  after 
the  above  letter  was  written,  d'Argental  had  the  morti- 
fication of  seeing  another  take  the  place  which  had  been 
denied  him.  However,  Adrienne  spared  no  pains  to 
convince  him  of  the  wisdom  of  her  decision,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  of  the  value  which  she  attached  to  his  affec- 
tion and  regard. 

"  Do  not  cease  either  to  be  prudent  or  to  love  me," 
she  writes.  "  The  sentiments  that  I  entertain  for  you 
are  worth  more  than  the  most  violent  and  most  dis- 
ordered passion."  And  again  :  "  Let  my  life  be  the 
term  of  your  constancy,  my  dear  friend.  .  .  .  Adieu, 
my  dear  friend  ;  I  am  very  affected  in  writing  to  you, 
and  never  was  I  more  penetrated  by  friendship,  affec- 
tion, and  esteem.  Adieu  ;  do  not  forget  me  entirely, 
or,  at  any  rate,  do  not  allow  me  to  imagine  so." 

D'Argental,  like  La  Chalotais,  made  the  law  his 
profession,  and,  in  due  time,  became  one  of  the  councillors 
of  the  Parliament  of  Paris.  The  gravity  expected  from 
one  holding  such  a  post,  however,  in  no  way  interfered 
with  his  intimacy  with  Adrienne,  who  was  in  the  habit 
of  consulting  him  on  all  business  matters,  and,  when 
dying,  appointed  him  her  sole  executor.1 

Although   there  can  be   little  doubt  that  Adrienne 

1  The  acceptance  of  this  charge  must  have  required  some  little 
courage  on  the  good  councillor's  part,  since  rumour  credited  him  with 
being  something  more  than  a  friend  to  the  actress,  which  is  perhaps  not 
altogether  a  matter  for  surprise,  seeing  that  he  was  so  frequent  a  visitor  in 
the  Rue  des  Marais  that  he  *'  passed  for  the  master  of  the  house,  and  was 
addressed  by  the  servants  as  «  Monsieur  '  only,  without  the  addition  of  his 
name." 


MAURICE  DE  SAXE 
From  an  engraving  by  J.  G.  WILL,  after  the  painting  by  HYACINTHE  RIGAUIJ 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  169 

was  perfectly  sincere  when  she  declared  her  conviction 
that  love  was  "  nothing  but  a  folly  which  she  detested," 
and  that  she  was  still  mistress  of  her  heart  when  she 
resisted  the  first  overtures  of  poor  d'Argental,  it  is  not 
improbable  that  at  the  time  she  wrote  her  celebrated 
letter  to  Madame  de  Ferriol,  she  had  already  renounced 
the  wise  resolutions  with  which  she  had  come  to  Paris 
in  favour  of  one  whom  she  loved  to  her  life's  end  with  a 
tenderness,  a  devotion,  and  a  disinterestedness  to  which 
even  the  most  rigid  of  moralists  do  not  fail  to  pay 
tribute. 

About  the  middle  of  the  year  1720,  there  arrived 
in  Paris  a  young  man  who  was  destined  to  become  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  figures  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury— Maurice,  "  Count  of  Saxony,"  celebrated  in  later 
years  as  Marechal  de  Saxe.  A  natural  son  of  Augustus 
II.,  Elector  of  Saxony  and  King  of  Poland,  and  Aurora 
von  Konigsmark,  sister  of  the  ill-fated  lover  of  George 
I.'s  uncrowned  queen,  the  future  victor  of  Fontenoy  was 
still  at  this  date  only  a  high-born  military  adventurer  in 
search  of  some  promising  field  for  the  exercise  of  his 
talents.  From  his  boyhood  Maurice  had  been  a  soldier. 
When  only  twelve  years  of  age,  under  the  direction  of 
the  Count  von  Schulenburg,  one  of  the  ablest  generals  of 
the  time,  he  had  been  present  at  the  sieges  of  Tournay 
and  Mons  and  the  battle  of  Malplaquet,  carrying  a 
musket,  like  an  ordinary  sous-qffider,  in  a  regiment 
despatched  by  Augustus  II.  to  the  assistance  of  the 
Emperor.  Returning  to  the  camp  of  the  allies  in  1710, 
he  assisted  at  the  sieges  of  Douai  and  Bethune,  where 
he  displayed  such  reckless  courage  as  to  call  forth  from 
Prince  Eugene  the  admonition  not  to  confound  rashness 
with  bravery.  Two  years  later,  he  accompanied  his  royal 


i  yo      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

father  to  the  siege  of  Stralsund,  and  again  exhibited  the 
same  impetuosity  in  an  attempt  to  cut  his  way  through 
the  enemy  and  engage  Charles  XII.  in  single  combat. 
Delighted  by  his  courage,  Augustus  promoted  him 
colonel  the  following  year,  and,  at  the  age  of  seventeen, 
gave  him  the  command  of  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers. 
The  Countess  von  KOnigsmark,  on  her  side,  worked  to 
assure  her  son's  fortunes  by  a  wealthy  marriage,  and 
succeeded  in  securing  for  him  the  hand  of  the  Countess 
von  Loben,  the  richest  heiress  in  Saxony.  This  lady's 
fortune  he  quickly  dissipated,  and  other  and  graver 
causes  of  complaint  against  him  not  being  wanting,  in 
1721  the  marriage  was  annulled.  In  the  meanwhile, 
Maurice  had  made  a  campaign,  under  Eugene,  against 
the  Turks,  and  had  also  contrived  to  irritate  his  father 
by  breaches  of  military  discipline  and  other  irregularities. 
In  consequence,  Augustus  II.,  whose  resentment  against 
the  young  man  was  artfully  fanned  by  his  chief  Minister, 
Count  Flemming,  who  had  conceived  a  strong  antipathy 
to  Maurice,  advised  him  to  leave  Germany  and  take  ser- 
vice with  France,  and  he  accordingly  set  out  for  Paris. 
Here  he  was  well  received  by  the  Regent,  who  ap- 
pointed him  marshal  de  camp,  his  father  soon  afterwards 
purchasing  for  him  the  command  of  the  Regiment  of 
Greder,  one  of  the  foreign  corps  in  the  French  Service. 

From  the  moment  of  his  arrival  in  Paris,  Maurice  de 
Saxe  claimed  a  large  share  of  the  attention  of  both  Court 
and  town.  Tall  and  superbly  built,  with  "  circular 
black  eyebrows,  eyes  glittering  bright,  partly  with  animal 
vivacity,  partly  with  spiritual,"  a  high  complexion,  and 
a  frank,  open  countenance,  he  was  one  of  the  handsomest 
men  of  his  time.  His  physical  strength  was  extra- 
ordinary ;  no  amount  of  exertion  seemed  able  to  fatigue 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  171 

him ;  in  war  and  in  the  chase  he  was  capable  of  perform- 
ing prodigies  of  endurance  ;  he  could  break  between 
his  fingers  crown-pieces  and  horseshoes.  He  was  seen 
everywhere.  On  the  parade  ground,  he  brought  his 
regiment  to  the  highest  pitch  of  perfection,  invented 
new  formations  and  tactics,  and  quickly  made  himself 
respected  by  his  superior  officers  and  adored  by  the 
soldiers.  In  the  fashionable  world,  he  was  equally 
successful  ;  no  roue  of  the  Regent's  circle  could  surpass 
him  in  extravagance,  folly,  and  debauchery ;  while, 
despite  his  brusque  manners,  which  procured  him 
the  sobriquet  of  sangtier  (wild  boar),  he  was  a  welcome 
guest  in  many  a  salon.  Soldier,  sportsman,  athlete, 
gambler,  drinker,  and  lover,  he  was  all  things  to  all 
men — and  all  women. 

A  great  patron  of  the  Comedie-Franfaise,  it  was  in- 
evitable that  Maurice  de  Saxe  and  Adrienne  Lecouvreur 
should  meet,  and  no  less  inevitable  that  the  count 
should  pay  the  actress  assiduous  court,  for  if  Maurice 
resembled  his  father,  the  "  Saxon  Man  of  Sin,"  in 
appearance,  vivacity,  and  physical  strength,  he  did  so 
even  more  closely  in  his  vices.  All  poor  Adrienne's 
wise  resolutions  failed  her  in  the  presence  of  this  young 
hero,  "  to  whom,"  says  Des  Boulmiers,  "  hearts  offered 
no  more  resistance  than  towns."  "  From  the  day  that 
she  knew  him,  she  was  charmed,  subjugated,  ravished  ; 
it  seemed  to  her  that  she  only  then  began  to  live.  She 
surrendered  herself  as  she  had  never  surrendered  herself 
before/' l 

It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  the  attraction  which 
Adrienne  possessed  for  Maurice  de  Saxe,  and  which 
kept  him,  though  very  far  from  faithful,  at  least 

1  M.  Paleologue,  Profits  defemmes  :  Adrienne  Lecouvreur. 


172      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

attached  to  her  for  nearly  ten  years.  Her  beauty  and 
grace  flattered  his  senses,  while  her  moral  qualities 
appealed  to  the  better  side  of  his  nature,  to  that  in- 
stinct of  heroism  and  idealism  which  lay  at  the  root 
of  his  character,  and  which,  though  often  obscured  in 
the  midst  of  his  debaucheries,  was  never  wholly  ex- 
tinguished. Less  easy  is  it  to  comprehend  the  absolute 
devotion  which  Adrienne  cherished  for  him ;  a  devotion 
which  remained  proof  against  absence,  infidelity,  ill- 
humour,  and  indifference,  and  which  endured  till  the 
last  hour  of  her  life. 

We  are  inclined,  however,  to  think  with  M. 
Paleologue — whose  study  of  the  actress  from  the 
psychological  point  of  view  is  as  admirable  as  M. 
Larroumet's  from  the  dramatic — that  apart  from  "that 
species  of  fascination  and  magnetism  which  the  liber- 
tine, when  he  is  not  of  vulgar  race,  exercises  over  the 
feminine  mind,"  Adrienne  had  very  early  discovered 
the  really  great  qualities  of  Maurice,  and  that  the  pros- 
pect of  developing  them,  and  of  generally  exercising  a 
beneficent  influence  over  such  a  man,  was  a  temptation 
which  an  imagination  so  generous  as  hers  found  it 
impossible  to  resist. 

The  results  of  this  influence  are  well  summarised  by 
Lemontey  in  the  lloge  of  the  actress  which  he  read  at  a 
stance  of  the  Academy  in  1823  : — 

"She  was  then  thirty,  an  age  favourable  to  ex- 
perience and  passion,  which  renders  a  woman  as  skilful 
to  please  as  prompt  to  love.  As  in  the  time  of  chivalry, 
her  cares,  her  tenderness,  her  wise  counsels,  initiated  her 
friend  into  the  amiable  accomplishments,  the  benevo- 
lent virtues,  the  polished  manners  which,  in  the  sequel, 
made  him  as  much  a  Frenchman  as  his  victories.  Under 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  173 

her  sweet  tuition,  the  Achilles  of  Homer  became  the 
Achilles  of  Racine.  She  adorned  his  mind  without 
enervating  it,  and  modified  what  seemed  extraordinary 
and  singular  in  the  turn  of  his  ideas.  She  taught  him 
our  language,  our  literature,  and  inspired  him  with  the 
taste  for  poetry,  for  music,  for  all  the  arts,  and  with  that 
passion  /or  the  theatre  which  followed  him  even  into 
the  camp.  One  might  say  of  the  victor  of  Fontenoy 
and  his  beautiful  preceptress  that  he  learned  from  her 
everything  save  war,  which  he  knew  better  than  any  one, 
and  orthography,  which  he  never  knew  at  all."  * 

For  four  years — that  is  to  say,  from  1721  to  1725 — 
the  liaison  between  Adrienne  and  Maurice  de  Saxe  con- 
tinued without  any  particular  incident ;  Maurice  pur- 
suing his  military  studies,  making  journeys  to  Dresden 
and  Warsaw  to  visit  his  father,  on  whose  behalf  he 
seems  to  have  acted  as  a  sort  of  unofficial  ambassador 
in  France,  and  indulging  in  a  good  many  passades ; 
Adrienne,  though  she  must  have  very  speedily  awakened 
to  the  fact  that  what  was  the  all-absorbing  interest  in  her 
life  was  but  a  mere  episode  in  her  hero's,  loving  him  none 
the  less  devotedly,  and  deriving  consolation  from  the 
thought  that,  if  others  disputed  with  her  the  possession 
of  his  heart,  she  alone  possessed  his  confidence.  Then 
came  a  long  separation.  The  Duchy  of  Courland,  which 
for  nearly  two  centuries  had  been  under  the  protection  of 
Poland,  fell  vacant  through  the  death  of  Duke  Ferdi- 
nand, who  ruled  in  the  name  of  his  niece,  Anne  Ivanovna, 
afterwards  Czarina  of  Russia,  a  childless  widow.  Several 
candidates  for  the  ducal  crown  presented  themselves,  and 
the  unprepossessing  duchess  found  herself  beset  with 
suitors,  eager  to  strengthen  their  claims  by  securing  her 

1  For  a  specimen  of  Maurice's  orthography,  see  page  240,  note,  infra. 


174      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

hand.  Augustus  II.,  however,  decided  to  put  forward  his 
son,  and  Anne,  having  been  approached  on  the  matter, 
expressed  herself  favourably  disposed  towards  a  marriage 
with  the  young  man. 

The  prospect  of  conquering  a  kingdom  for  himself 
with  his  sword,  as,  even  should  the  Diet  elect  him  and 
Anne  accept  him  as  her  husband,  his  rivals  were  not  likely 
to  abandon  their  claims  without  a  struggle,  appealed 
strongly  to  the  adventurous  Maurice,  and  he  set  out  for 
Courland.  Everything  augured  well  for  his  success, 
when,  one  day  in  May  1726,  he  received,  to  his  astonish- 
ment and  disgust,  orders  from  his  father  to  renounce  his 
candidature.  Diplomatic  complications  obliged  Augustus 
to  discourage  his  son's  ambition. 

Maurice  ignored  the  paternal  commands,  and  some 
days  later  found  him  at  Mitau,  paying  court  to  the 
duchess.  But,  at  the  same  time,  in  order  to  leave  nothing 
to  chance,  he  carried  on,  through  the  medium  of  the 
Saxon  ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg,  a  second  matrimonial 
negotiation,  without  prejudice  to  the  first,  with  the 
Grand  Duchess  Elizabeth  Petrovna,  to  wit.  The  am- 
bassador sent  to  Dresden  for  a  portrait  of  the  count,  and 
showed  it  to  the  princess,  who  was  so  charmed  with  the 
counterfeit  presentment  that  she  straightway  declared 
her  willingness  to  espouse  the  original.  Both  Anne  and 
Elizabeth,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  observe,  were  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  the  double  game  played  by  Maurice, 
who  pursued  his  negotiations  with  much  address,  wooing 
the  one  lady  in  person  and  the  other  by  proxy.  Once 
more  matters  looked  hopeful  for  the  young  adventurer, 
save  that  now  that  his  father  had  abandoned  him  he 
was  in  sore  straits  for  money.  His  mother  sent  him 
all  she  could,  but  the  sums  he  received  from  her  were 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  175 

very  far  from  being  sufficient  for  his  needs,  and  he 
accordingly  appealed  to  the  generosity  of  his  friends  in 
France.  Adrienne  was  the  first  to  respond.  Though, 
of  course,  well  aware  that,  in  the  event  of  Maurice's 
success,  she  would  lose  him  for  ever,  the  devoted  woman 
never  hesitated  a  moment,  but  sold  or  pledged  her 
jewellery  and  plate,  and  sent  the  proceeds — some  40,000 
livres  l — to  her  lover. 

Her  generosity,  however,  was  of  no  avail.  In  spite 
of  his  courage  and  energy,  and  the  assistance  of  his  friends 
in  France,  Maurice  failed.  On  June  28,  1726,  he  was 
elected  Duke  of  Courland  ;  "  but  the  problem  was  to 
fall  in  love  with  the  Dowager  Anne  Ivanovna,  a  big, 
brazen  Russian  woman — (such  a  cheek  the  pictures  give 
her,  in  size  and  somewhat  in  expression  like  a  Westphalia 
ham) — and  this,  with  all  his  adventurous  audacity,  Count 
Maurice  could  not  do."  2  The  result  was  that,  after 
maintaining  his  authority  for  about  a  year  and  perform- 
ing prodigies  of  reckless  valour,  the  new  duke,  attacked 
by  Russia,  proscribed  by  Poland,  abandoned  by  his 
partisans,  disavowed  by  his  father,  renounced  by  Anne 
("  who  had  discovered  that  he  did  not  like  Westphalia 
hams  in  that  particular  form,  that  he  only  pretended 
to  like  them  "),  and  by  the  Grand  Duchess,  who  had 
fathomed  his  little  scheme,  was  compelled  to  surrender 
his  dukedom  and  shake  the  dust  of  Courland  off  his 
feet. 

That  during  this  long  separation  Maurice  remained 
faithful  to  his  absent  mistress  is  very  improbable.  From 
the  diplomatic  correspondence  of  the  time,  it  would 
appear  that  the  handsome  adventurer  had  aroused  among 

1  And  not  ^30,000,  as  Carlyle  and  so  many  writers  have  stated. 

2  Carlyle's  "  History  of  Frederick  the  Great,"  ii.  160. 


1 76      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

the  fair  sex  of  Saxony,  Poland,  and  Courland  a  veritable 
enthusiasm.  All  the  great  ladies  of  Dresden,  Warsaw, 
Mitau,  and  Riga  had  espoused  his  cause,  and  compelled 
their  husbands  to  do  likewise.  "  Count  Poicey  (Grand 
Marshal  of  Lithuania),"  wrote  one  of  the  ministers  of 
Augustus  II.,  "  has  gone  into  this  affair,  like  Adam  into 
sin,  seduced  by  his  wife."  When  the  Diet  of  Mitau 
elected  Maurice  duke,  the  delight  of  his  fair  partisans 
knew  no  bounds.  "  The  women  cannot  sleep  for  joy," 
wrote  the  Saxon  ambassador  at  St.  Petersburg.  "  As 
many  thousand  crowns  as  our  hero  has  just  made 
Actaeons  would  be  very  welcome  to  me." 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  his  military  and  political 
occupations  and  his  presumed  bonnes  fortunes,  Maurice 
found  time  to  think  of  Adrienne,  to  write  to  her  "  twice 
a  week  regularly,"  and  to  "  testify  towards  her  more 
affection  and  confidence  than  ever."  Adrienne,  in  her 
turn,  passes  on  the  news  to  one  of  her  friends  in  an 
interesting  letter,  in  which  she  shows  herself  thoroughly 
conversant  with  the  somewhat  complicated  state  of 
affairs  in  Poland.  She  deplores  the  "  disgraceful  weak- 
ness "  of  Augustus  II.,  who  "allowed  himself  to  be 
governed  by  the  most  cruel  enemy  of  his  glory  (his 
Minister  Flemming),  and  the  most  bitter  enemy  of  the 
son  of  whom  he  was  unworthy  " ;  severely  censures  the 
conduct  of  the  English  Government,  "  which  had  pro- 
mised assistance  which  it  had  now  no  intention  of 
rendering,"  and  declares  that  she  was  "  dying  of  fear " 
and  "  tormented  to  an  extent  which  she  could  not 
describe." 

On  October  23,  1728,  Maurice  returned  to  Paris, 
and  the  lovers  were  united  once  more.  "A  person 
expected  for  a  very  long  time  arrives  this  evening," 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  177 

writes  Adrienne  to  a  friend,  "  apparently  in  moderately 
good  health.  A  courier  has  come  on  in  advance,  because 
the  berlin  in  which  they  were  travelling  broke  down 
thirty  leagues  from  here.  They  have  started  in  a  post- 
chaise,  and  this  evening  they  will  be  here."  The  liaison 
was  resumed,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  troubled  by 
frequent  storms.  Maurice  returned  a  disappointed  man ; 
the  future  seemed  dark,  his  star  was  temporarily  hidden  ; 
a  life  of  inaction,  always  trying  to  one  of  his  restless, 
ambitious  temperament,  was  well-nigh  intolerable  after 
the  adventurous  years  he  had  spent  in  Courland.  He 
sought  relief  in  pleasure — the  chase,  high  play,  and 
gallantry ;  wearied  of  that,  and  endeavoured  to  kill 
time  by  the  study  of  mathematics  and  the  art  of  war 
and  the  composition  of  his  curious  Reveries.  Wearied 
of  that  also,  turned  to  Adrienne  for  consolation,  and 
vented  his  ill-humour  upon  her.  Claiming  the  utmost 
liberty  for  himself,  he  was,  nevertheless,  indisposed  to 
concede  even  a  small  measure  of  it  to  his  mistress.  He 
grew  jealous  and  suspicious  of  her  friends,  and  even 
believed,  or  professed  to  believe,  that  her  relations  with 
one  of  them  were  exceeding  the  limits  of  friendship  ;  for 
we  find  Adrienne  writing  to  a  confidant  as  follows  : — 

"  I  am  worn  out  with  anger  and  grief ;  I  have  been 
dissolved  in  tears  this  livelong  night.  Perhaps  it  is 
unreasonable  of  me,  since  I  have  nothing  wherewith 
to  reproach  myself;  but  I  cannot  endure  severity  so 
little  deserved.  They  suspect  me  ;  they  do  more,  they 
accuse  me  ;  they  do  worse  still,  they  wish  to  convict 
me,  and  that  without  giving  me  an  opportunity  of 
defending  myself,  in  such  a  way  that,  if  chance  does  not 
enable  me  to  ascertain  what  is  happening,  I  shall  be 

M 


iy 8      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

covered  with  the  most  horrible  calumny  possible  to 
conceive,  by  a  man  who  has  borne  the  name  of  my  friend 
for  ten  years.  They  do  not  wish  me  to  tell  you  this. 
I  esteem  and  love  tenderly  him  who  forbids  me,  but  I 
know  not  how  to  keep  it  to  myself;  I  am  too  affected, 
too  wounded,  and  too  alarmed  for  the  future  not  to 
reveal  it,  at  any  rate,  to  you.  I  need  advice.  A  man 
capable  of  this  calumny  may  very  well  imagine  others ; 
and  that  which  distresses  me  the  more  is  the  necessity 
for  dissimulation.  To  exclaim  against  deceit  is  natural, 
and  I  would  prefer  to  pardon  it  rather  than  to  be  com- 
pelled to  restrain  both  my  grief  and  my  feelings.  I 
have  been  told  that  it  is  his  way  of  thinking,  that  he 
does  not  intend  to  do  me  any  wrong  in  confounding  me 
with  the  generality  of  women.  I  cannot  entertain  this 
idea.  That  is  not  the  language  he  has  held  to  me  for 
ten  years,  and  ought  not  to  be  the  reward  of  my  atten- 
tion to  please  him  and  to  make  him  esteem  me,  at  least, 
according  to  my  deserts.  What  can  one  do  to  me,  after 
all,  save  wound  me  in  the  place  where  I  am  the  most 
sensitive  ?  I  could  destroy  in  an  instant  the  error  in 
question ;  but  how  am  I  to  console  myself  for  the 
intention  of  this  calumny  ?  This  is  not  a  chance  sus- 
picion ;  it  is  a  confidence  made  to  a  man  who  has  no 
feeling  for  me,  save  friendship,  but  whose  friendship  is 
worth  more  than  all  the  passions  in  the  world,  whose 
esteem  is  more  precious  to  me  than  life,  and  whose 
companionship  is  more  necessary  for  me  than  all  the 
fortunes  in  the  universe.  It  is  before  him  that  I  am 
made  to  appear  false  and  contemptible.  Whatever  he 
says,  they  attest  my  supposed  crime.  O  mon  Dieu ! 
What  are  we  to  do  ? " 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  179 

Seventeen  months  after  Maurice's  return  to  France 
Adrienne  died,  under  peculiarly  dramatic  circumstances  ; 
popular  rumour  ascribing  her  death  to  poison  adminis- 
tered by  the  agents  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,1  a 
pretender  to  the  heart  of  the  Saxon  hero,  who  was 
already  under  suspicion  of  having  made  an  attempt  upon 
her  rival's  life.  To  arrive  at  a  satisfactory  conclusion 
in  regard  to  this  very  mysterious  affair,  it  would  be 
necessary  to  have  before  us  the  dossier  containing  the 
report  of  the  autopsy  and  other  important  documents 
of  which  Sainte-Beuve  speaks  in  his  well-known  study 
of  the  actress.  This  dossier  has,  however,  disappeared, 
and  it  is  uncertain  if  it  is  still  in  existence  ;  the  proba- 
bility is  that  it  has  been  destroyed.  Sainte-Beuve's 
conclusion  was  that  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon  was  guilt- 
less, not  only  of  Adrienne's  death,  which  he  ascribes  to 
natural  causes,  but  of  any  attempt  on  her  life.  The 
former  opinion  was,  no  doubt,  justified  by  the  evidence 
which  the  lost  dossier  contained.  But  the  latter,  which 
seems  to  have  been  based  on  an  altogether  misplaced 
belief  in  the  veracity  of  a  certain  Abbe  Aunillon — who 
was  on  terms  of  the  closest  intimacy  with  the  accused 
duchess,  and  invented  a  most  ingenious  defence  on 
behalf  of  his  friend,  which  we  need  not  enter  into  here — 
the  great  critic  would  probably  have  seen  cause  to  alter 
had  he  been  acquainted  with  the  documents  which  have 


1  Louise  Henriette  Francoise  of  Lorraine  (Mile,  de  Guise),  daughter 
of  the  Prince  and  Princesse  d'Harcourt,  and  fourth  wife  of  Emmanuel 
Theodose  de  la  Tour  d'Auvergne,  Due  de  Bouillon,  whom  she  married 
in  1725.  Here  is  a  contemporary  portrait  of  her  :  «*  Very  pretty  ;  rather 
tall  than  short ;  neither  stout  nor  slender ;  an  oval  face  ;  a  broad  fore- 
head ;  black  eyes  and  eyebrows  ;  brown  hair  ;  very  wide  mouth  and 
very  red  lips." 


i8o      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

been  brought  to  light  of  recent  years  by  M.  Ravaisson, 
M.  Campardon,  and  M.  Monval. 

Let  us,  however,  borrow  the  account  of  the  affair 
given  a  few  days  after  Adrienne's  death,  by  Mile.  A'fsse 
in  a  letter  to  Madame  Calandrini,  and  which,  she  declares, 
had  been  furnished  her  by  "  a  friend  of  the  Lecouvreur," 
probably  d'Argental,  to  whom  she  was  related  : — 

"  Madame  de  Bouillon  is  capricious,  violent,  head- 
strong, and  much  addicted  to  gallantry.  Her  tastes 
extend  from  the  prince  to  the  actor.1  She  conceived  a 
fancy  for  the  Comte  de  Saxe,  who  had  none  for  her. 
Not  that  he  piques  himself  on  his  fidelity  to  the 
Lecouvreur ;  for,  together  with  his  passion  for  her,  he 
has  a  thousand  little  passing  tastes.  But  he  was  neither 
flattered  nor  anxious  to  reply  to  the  impulsiveness  of 
Madame  de  Bouillon,  who  was  enraged  at  seeing  her 
charms  despised,  and  who  had  no  doubt  that  the 
Lecouvreur  was  the  obstacle  that  stood  in  the  way  of 
the  passion  that  the  Count  would  otherwise  naturally 
entertain  for  her.2  To  destroy  this  obstacle,  she  resolved 
to  get  rid  of  the  actress,  and,  in  order  to  put  this  horrible 
design  into  execution,  chose  a  young  abbe,3  with  whom 

1  She  numbered  among  her  lovers  the  Comte  de  Clermont,  a  Prince 
of  the  Blood,  the  actors  Quinault-Dufresne  and  Grandval  of  the  Come'die- 
Fran$aise,  and  a  singer  of  the  Opera,  named  Tribou. 

2  The  real  obstacle  was  probably  an  Opera  girl  named  Cartou,  of 
whom  Maurice  was  desperately  enamoured.     According  to  Grimm,  this 
young   lady  followed   her  lover  to  the  famous  Camp  of  Muhlberg,  in 
Saxony,  where  she  had  the  honour  of  supping  with  two  kings,  Augustus 
II.  of  Poland  and  Frederick  William  of  Prussia,  and  two  future  kings, 
Augustus  III.  and  Frederick  the  Great. 

3  His  name  was  Bouret,  and  he  was  the  son  of  a  government  official 
at  Metz.     He  was  at  this  time  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  had  come  to 
Paris,  some  months  before,  to  study  painting. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  181 

she  was  not  personally  acquainted,  to  be  the  instrument 
of  her  vengeance.  He  was  approached  by  two  men  at 
the  Tuileries,  who  proposed  to  him,  after  a  rather  lengthy 
conversation  regarding  his  poverty,  to  free  himself  from 
his  distress  by  obtaining  admission,  under  favour  of  his 
skill  in  painting,  into  Lecouvreur's  house,  and  persuading 
her  to  eat  some  lozenges,  which  would  be  given  him. 
The  poor  abbe  objected  strongly,  on  account  of  the 
heinousness  of  the  crime  ;  but  the  two  men  replied  that 
it  no  longer  depended  upon  him  to  refuse,  since  he 
would  do  so  on  peril  of  his  life.  The  abbe,  terrified, 
promised  everything ;  and  was  conducted  to  Madame 
de  Bouillon,  who  confirmed  the  promises  and  threats, 
and  handed  him  the  lozenges.  The  abbe  begged  that 
a  few  days  might  be  allowed  him  for  the  execution  of 
these  projects ;  and  Mile.  Lecouvreur  received  one  day, 
on  returning  home  with  one  of  her  friends  and  an  actress 
named  Lamothe,  an  anonymous  letter,  in  which  she  was 
implored  to  come  immediately,  either  alone  or  with 
some  one  on  whom  she  could  depend,  to  the  garden 
of  the  Luxembourg,  where,  at  the  fifth  tree  in  one  of 
the  main  avenues,  she  would  find  a  man  who  had  some- 
thing of  the  last  importance  to  communicate  to  her.  As 
it  was  then  precisely  the  hour  appointed  for  the  rendez- 
vous, she  re-entered  her  coach  and  set  out  thither, 
accompanied  by  the  two  persons  who  were  with  her. 
She  found  the  abbe,  who  accosted  her  and  related  to 
her  the  odious  commission  with  which  he  had  been 
entrusted,  declaring  that  he  was  incapable  of  commit- 
ting such  a  crime ;  but  that  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to 
do,  inasmuch  as  he  was  sure  to  be  assassinated. 

"The   Lecouvreur    told    him   that,    for   the    safety 
of  both,  the  whole  affair   must  be   denounced  to  the 


1 82      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Lieutenant  of  Police.  The  abbe  replied  that  he  feared 
that,  if  he  were  to  do  this,  he  might  make  himself  enemies 
too  powerful  for  him  to  resist;  but  that,  if  she  believed 
this  precaution  necessary  for  her  safety,  he  would  not  hesi- 
tate to  maintain  what  he  had  told  her.  The  Lecouvreur 
took  him  in  her  coach  to  M.  H£rault  (the  Lieutenant 
of  Police),  who,  on  the  facts  being  laid  before  him, 
asked  the  abb£  for  the  lozenges  and  threw  them  to  a 
dog,  who  died  a  quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards.  He 
next  inquired  of  him  which  of  the  two  Bouillons1  had 
given  him  this  commission,  and,  when  the  abb£  replied 
that  it  was  the  duchess,  showed  no  surprise.  M.  Herault 
continued  to  question  him,  and  asked  if  he  would 
venture  to  support  this  accusation  publicly ;  to  which 
the  abb£  replied  that  he  could  put  him  in  prison  and 
afterwards  confront  him  with  Madame  de  Bouillon. 

"The  Lieutenant  of  Police  sent  him  away,  and  in- 
formed the  cardinal  (de  Fleury)  of  this  adventure. 
The  cardinal  was  very  indignant,  and  desired  in  the  first 
instance  that  the  affair  should  be  most  strictly  inves- 
tigated. But  the  relatives  and  friends  of  the  Bouillon 
family  persuaded  the  cardinal  not  to  give  publicity  to 
so  scandalous  an  affair,  and  succeeded  in  appeasing  him. 
Some  months  later,  no  one  knows  how,  the  adven- 
ture was  made  public  and  caused  a  terrible  commotion. 
Madame  de  Bouillon's  brother-in-law  spoke  of  it  to  his 
brother,  and  told  him  that  it  was  absolutely  imperative 
that  his  wife  should  clear  herself  from  such  a  suspicion, 

1  The  Duchesse  and  her  stepson's  wife,  the  Princesse  de  Bouillon 
(Marie  Charlotte  Sobieska),  wife  of  Charles  Godefroi  de  la  Tour 
d'Auvergne,  Prince  de  Bouillon,  whom  she  married  in  1724.  Several 
writers  have  confounded  the  two  ladies,  and  Scribe  and  Legouve,  in  their 
tragedy,  Adriennc  Lecouvreur t  make  the  princess,  and  not  the  duchess, 
the  rival  and  murderess  of  the  heroine. 


ADRIENNE  LECOUVREUR  183 

and  that  he  ought  to  ask  for  a  lettre  de  cachet  to  shut 
the  abbe  up.  There  was  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  this 
lettre  de  cachet^  and  the  poor  wretch  was  arrested  and 
taken  to  the  Bastille.  He  was  examined,  and  main- 
tained with  firmness  all  that  he  had  said.  Many  pro- 
mises and  threats  were  used  to  induce  him  to  retract. 
All  kinds  of  expedients  were  suggested  to  him,  as,  for 
instance,  madness  or  a  passion  for  the  Lecouvreur,  which 
had  prompted  him  to  invent  this  fable,  in  order  to 
please  her.  Nothing,  however,  could  move  him ;  he 
never  varied  in  his  answers,  and  was  kept  in  prison. 

"The  Lecouvreur  wrote  to  the  abbe's  father,  who  lived 
in  the  country  and  was  unaware  of  his  son's  misfortune. 
The  poor  man  came  at  once  to  Paris,  and  demanded  that 
his  son  should  either  be  formally  brought  to  trial  or 
set  at  liberty.  He  addressed  himself  to  the  cardinal, 
who  inquired  of  Madame  de  Bouillon  whether  she 
wished  the  affair  to  be  tried,  as  otherwise  the  abbe  could 
not  be  kept  in  prison.  Madame  de  Bouillon,  dreading 
publicity  and  unable  to  get  the  abbe  assassinated  in  the 
Bastille,  consented  to  his  liberation.  During  the  two 
months  that  the  father  remained  in  Paris  nothing 
happened  to  the  son.  But  when  the  father  had  returned 
to  the  country,  the  abb£,  having  had  the  imprudence 
to  stay  in  Paris,  suddenly  disappeared.  No  one  knows 
whether  he  is  dead  or  not,  but  nothing  is  heard  of  him." 

Incredible  as  this  story  may  appear,  it,  nevertheless, 
accords  in  all  important  details  with  the  documents 
which  M.  Monval  has  extracted  from  the  Archives  of 
the  Bastille,  preserved  in  the  Bibliotheque  de  1' Arsenal. 

1  Lettres  de  Mademoiselle  d'  A'isse  a  Madame  Calandrini  (edit.  1846), 
p.  230  et  seq. 


1 84      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

The  interview  at  the  Tuileries,  the  conversation  with  the 
Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  the  suspicious  lozenges — all  that  is 
true.  The  Abbe  Bouret,  imprisoned  at  Saint-Lazare, 
confirmed  it  in  a  series  of  examinations  to  which  he  was 
subjected.1 

Bouret  had  been  arrested  on  July  29,  1729,  and  he 
was  kept  in  prison  for  three  months.  During  his  con- 
finement Adrienne  wrote  to  him,  entreating  him  to 
withdraw  his  charge  against  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon, 
if  it  were  untrue,  and  promising,  in  that  event,  to  obtain 
his  pardon.  She  also  sent  him  money,  clothes,  and 
books,  and  did  all  she  could  to  lighten  his  imprisonment. 

Thanks  to  the  efforts  of  his  father,  who,  though  ill, 
had  hastened  to  Paris  so  soon  as  he  was  informed  of  his 
son's  arrest,  Bouret  was  released  on  October  23,  when 
Adrienne  advised  him  to  leave  Paris  at  once,  pointing  out 
that  the  affair  had  now  become  common  knowledge,  and 
that,  if  he  lingered,  the  Bouillon  family  would  certainly 
cause  him  to  be  rearrested. 

Well  would  it  have  been  for  Bouret  had  he  followed 
the  actress's  advice ;  but,  unfortunately,  his  father's 
illness  took  so  serious  a  turn  that  it  was  impossible  for 

1  The  points  in  which  Mile.  A'isse's  story  and  Bouret' s  evidence 
differ  are  as  follows  : — 

( I )  Bouret  was  acquainted  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon  prior  to 
his  adventure,  having  been  employed  by  her  to  paint  her  portrait.  (2) 
He  had  not  one,  but  several  interviews  with  her  two  emissaries,  who,  he 
stated,  wore  masks.  (3)  He  received  the  suspicious  lozenges  after, 
and  not  before,  warning  Adrienne.  (4)  It  was  not  the  Lieutenant  of 
Police,  Herault,  but  the  Chemist  Geoffrey,  of  the  Academic  des  Sciences, 
who  made  the  experiment  on  the  dog.  He  reported  that  some  of  the 
lozenges  appeared  suspicious,  but  that  their  number  was  insufficient  to 
permit  of  his  conducting  experiments  and  forming  a  definite  opinion. 
This,  as  M.  Larroumet  remarks,  is  the  language  of  a  man  who  is  un- 
willing to  compromise  himself. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  185 

him  to  undertake  the  journey  to  Lorraine,  and  the  abbe 
remained  to  nurse  him.  Meanwhile,  the  scandal  had 
assumed  such  dimensions  that  the  Due  de  Bouillon 
obtained  a  new  lettre  de  cachet^  by  virtue  of  which,  on 
January  23,  1730,  Bouret  was  again  arrested  and  con- 
veyed first  to  For  1'Ev^que  and  afterwards  back  to  Saint- 
Lazare,  on  a  charge  of  "  poisoning  or  giving  false  infor- 
mation to  the  celebrated  actress  Lecouvreur." 

The  public  interest  in  the  affair  had,  not  improbably, 
been  stimulated  by  a  singular  incident  which  had  occurred 
at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  during  the  previous  autumn. 
On  October  18,  Adrienne  was  playing  the  part  of 
Phedre,  when,  perceiving  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon 
complacently  watching  her  performance  from  one  of 
the  boxes  on  the  first  tier^her  feelings  overcame  her,  and, 
turning  in  the  direction  of  her  enemy,  she  repeated  with 
unmistakable  emphasis  the  indignant  lines : — 

"  Je  sais  mes  perfidies, 

CEnone,  et  ne  suis  pas  de  ces  femmes  hardies 
Qui,  go&tant  dans  les  crimes  une  tranquille  paix, 
Ont  su  se  faire  un  front  qui  ne  rougit  jamais." 

The  pit,  whose  sympathies  were  entirely  on  the  side 
of  the  actress,  burst  into  loud  applause,  amidst  which 
the  duchess  angrily  quitted  the  theatre. * 

Adrienne  did  not  play  again  until  the  evening  of 
November  10,  owing  to  ill-health,  when  she  again 
appeared  as  Phedre.  The  accounts  of  the.  Com^die- 
Francaise  show  that,  on  the  following  day,  a  sum  of  I 
livre,  10  sols  was  paid  for  a  coach  "to  go  to  the  Hotel 
de  Bouillon,  on  the  matter  of  the  footmen,"  and  similar 

1  Scribe  and  Lcgouve  make  this  incident  one  of  the  principal  scenes 
of  their  tragedy. 


1 86      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

entries  occur  on  the  2Oth  and  3Oth  of  the  same  month. 
From  this  M.  Monval  supposes  that  the  duchess,  in 
order  to  avenge  the  affront  she  had  received,  had  sent 
her  lackeys  to  create  a  disturbance  and  hiss  Adrienne.1 

Early  in  the  following  March,  Bouret  was  removed 
to  the  Bastille,  where  he  persistently  adhered  to  the 
statements  he  had  made  before  Herault  and  at  Saint- 
La  zare ;  and  on  May  18,  Pere  de  Couvrigny,  the  Jesuit 
confessor  attached  to  the  prison,  wrote  to  the  Lieutenant 
of  Police  the  following  significant  note  : — 

"  I  have  visited  and  had  a  long  conversation  with  the 
young  abbe  brought  from  Saint-Lazare,  and  have  made 
strong  representations  to  him  on  the  baseness  of  the 
calumny  of  which  he  has  been  guilty.  He  appears  very 
firm  in  maintaining  that  he  has  done  no  wrong  to  others, 
but  that  he  cannot  wrong  himself.  The  matter  is  very 
terrible  and  serious" 

Terrible  and  serious  it  most  certainly  was,  for 
Adrienne  had  died  two  months  before,  after  a  very 
short  illness ;  and  the  firmness  with  which  Bouret  con- 
tinued to  adhere  to  his  accusation  against  the  Duchesse 
de  Bouillon  gave  the  affair  a  still  more  sinister  com- 
plexion. On  July  8,  he  wrote  to  Herault : — 

"  Permit  me  to  cast  myself  at  your  feet  to  implore 
your  protection.  I  believe  that  you  will  not  refuse  it  to 
me,  inasmuch  as  you  are  the  protector  of  the  innocent. 
Alas !  cast  a  pitying  glance  on  my  misfortunes.  It 
is  a  sad  spectacle  for  you ;  you  will  see  nothing  but 
tears,  groans,  and  fears ;  in  a  word,  all  that  an  agitated 
mind  can  exhibit.  That  is  the  sad  state  to  which  I 

1  Lettres  d^  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  p.  5 1 . 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  187 

have  been  reduced  for  a  whole  year.  The  fury  of  my 
enemies  ought  to  be  satisfied.  You  are  my  only  hope ; 
in  you  I  have  placed  my  trust ;  decide  upon  my  fate, 
Monseigneur ;  I  will  subscribe  to  everything  that  I  am 
able  to ;  but,  as  for  my  departing  from  what  I  have  de- 
posed to,  were  death  with  all  its  terrors  to  appear  before 
my  eyes,  I  would  prefer  it  to  calumniating  myself." 

But,  six  weeks  later,  Bouret  completely  alters  his 
tone,  and  on  August  24  writes  again  to  Herault : — 

"  As  you  have  done  me  the  honour  to  order  me  to 
speak  the  truth  touching  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  I 
obey  your  commands.  Here  it  is.  The  desire  that  I 
had  to  become  acquainted  with  the  Lecouvreur  induced 
me  to  invent  a  pretext  for  gaining  admission  to  her 
house.  ...  I  declare  to  you  that  the  duchess  is 
innocent  of  everything  of  which  I  have  accused  her. 
Pardon  a  wretched  man,  whose  only  crimes  are  a 
fevered  brain  and  much  imprudence."1 

After  this  recantation,  the  unfortunate  youth  re- 
mained a  prisoner  for  nine  months  longer,  when  he 
was  finally  set  at  liberty  (June  3,  1731).  From  that 
date  nothing  more  is  heard  of  him,  though  there  is 
no  reason  to  assume,  with  Mile.  A'fsse,  that  he  was 
the  victim  of  foul  play.  He  probably  lost  not  a 
moment  in  returning  to  Lorraine,  heartily  glad  to  turn 
his  back  upon  the  city  in  which  he  had  suffered  so  much. 

That  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  had  been  the  object  of  an 
attempt  at  poisoning  on  the  part  of  Madame  de  Bouillon 
admits,  we  think,  of  very  little  doubt.  Barely  half  a 
century  had  passed  since  the  famous  Poison  Trials,  in 

1  Cited  M.  Georges  Monval,  Lettres  d' Adrienne  Lecouvreur^  p.  57. 


1 88      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

which  many  a  high-born  dame,  including,  by  the  way, 
another  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,1  had  been  compromised. 
What  had  occurred  with  terrible  frequency  in  1680 
was  not  impossible  in  1730;  nor  does  the  passionate, 
vindictive,  and  unscrupulous  character  of  the  duchess 
render  her  culpability  any  the  less  probable.  Again, 
although  Bouret  ultimately  withdrew  his  accusation, 
he  persisted  in  it  for  many  months  after  his  second 
arrest,  in  spite  of  the  prospect  that  a  recantation  would 
ensure  his  release.  Thirdly,  the  official  investigation 
of  the  affair  was  very  incomplete,  and  the  authorities 
appear  to  have  had  no  other  object  in  view  than  to 
obtain  Bouret's  recantation  and  hush  the  matter  up. 
Finally,  if  the  duchess  were  innocent,  why,  we  may 
well  ask,  did  she  not  take  steps  to  clear  her  reputation 
by  prosecuting  her  accuser  before  the  courts  ?  .Why  did 
she  prefer  to  remain  under  the  shadow  of  so  hideous  a 
suspicion  to  the  end  of  her  life  ? 

But  even  if  the  charge  against  Madame  de  Bouillon 
is  to  be  considered  proved,  it  seems  to  us  in  the  highest 
degree  improbable  that  the  attempt  against  Adrienne 
was  renewed,  and  that  the  actress  fell  a  victim  to  it, 
as  so  many  persons  asserted  at  the  time,  and  as  some 
writers,  including  M.  Monval,  still  believe.  Let  us, 
however,  listen  to  Mile.  A'fsse's  version  of  the  circum- 
stances connected  with  Adrienne's  death  : — 

"  Since  then  (Bouret's  denunciation  of  the  duchess), 
the  Lecouvreur  has  been  on  her  guard.  One  day,  at  the 
theatre,  after  the  principal  piece,  Madame  de  Bouillon 
sent  to  ask  her  to  come  to  her  box.  The  Lecouvreur 
was  extremely  surprised,  and  answered  that  her  toilette 

1  Marie  Anne  Mancini,  Racine's  enemy. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  189 

was  not  finished,  and  it  was  impossible  for  her  to  present 
herself.  The  duchess  sent  a  second  time,  and  was  told, 
in  reply  to  her  invitation,  that  the  Lecouvreur  was  about 
to  appear  on  the  stage,  but  that  she  would  obey  her 
commands  when  she  quitted  it.  Madame  de  Bouillon 
begged  her  not  to  fail  her,  and,  as  she  was  making  her 
exit,  met  her,  bestowed  upon  her  all  sorts  of  caresses, 
complimented  her  highly  on  her  acting,  and  assured  her 
that  to  see  her  give  so  finished  a  rendering  of  the  part 
which  she  had  just  played  had  afforded  her  infinite 
pleasure.  Some  time  afterwards,  the  Lecouvreur  became 
so  ill  in  the  middle  of  a  piece  that  she  was  unable  to 
finish  it.  When  the  "  orator "  came  forward  to  make 
the  announcement,  the  whole  pit  eagerly  demanded 
news  of  her  condition.  Since  that  day,  her  health 
declined  and  she  grew  thin  and  feeble.  On  the  last 
occasion  on  which  she  performed,  she  took  the  part  of 
Jocaste  in  the  CEdipe  of  Voltaire.  The  role  is  a  some- 
what trying  one.  Before  the  play  began,  she  was  seized 
with  a  violent  attack  of  dysentery.  ...  It  was  pitiful  to 
see  her  exhaustion  and  weakness.  Although  I  was  in 
ignorance  of  her  indisposition,  I  remarked  two  or  three 
times  to  Madame  de  Parabere 1  that  I  felt  very  distressed 
on  her  account.  Between  the  two  pieces  we  were  in- 
formed of  the  nature  of  her  illness,  and  were  astonished 
when  she  reappeared  in  the  afterpiece,  Le  Florentin,  and 
undertook  a  very  long  and  difficult  part,2  which,  however, 

1  Marie  Magdeleine  de  la  Vieuville,  Comtesse  de  Parabere  (1693- 
1750).      On  her  husband's  death,  in  1716,  she  became  maitresse  en  tiire 
of  the  Regent  d'Orleans,  which  exalted  position  she  occupied  for  five 
years,   when    the   prince,   wearying    of  her    caprices,   replaced    her  by 
Madame  Ferrand  d'Averne. 

2  That  of  Hortense.     According  to  Titon  du  Tillet,  Adrienne  had 
never  been  surpassed  in  this  character. 


1 90      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

she  played  to  perfection,  and,  to  all  appearance,  as  if  it 
gave  her  pleasure.  The  audience  showed  that  they 
greatly  appreciated  her  decision  to  continue  playing, 
and  it  was  no  longer  said,  as  it  had  been  previously, 
that  she  was  suffering  from  the  effects  of  poison.  The 
poor  creature  returned  home,  and,  four  days  later,  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  she  was  believed  to  be  out 
of  danger,  she  died.  She  had  convulsions,  which  never 
happens  in  cases  of  dysentery,1  and  went  out  like  a 
candle.  The  body  was  opened,  and  the  bowels  were 
found  to  be  ulcerated.  ...  If  the  suspected  lady  had 
appeared  at  the  theatre  under  these  circumstances,  she 
would  have  been  driven  from  the  house.  She  had  the 
effrontery  to  send  every  day  to  the  Lecouvreur's  house 
to  inquire  as  to  her  condition." 

If,  as  Sainte-Beuve  and  M.  Larroumet  point  out, 
the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon  had  really  intended  to  poison 
Adrienne,  the  moment  chosen  for  her  attempt  was 
singularly  inopportune.  Suspected  by  the  public  of  a 
previous  attempt  upon  the  actress's  life,  with  Bouret 
still  in  prison  and  an  investigation  of  the  affair  hanging 
over  her  head,  the  most  ordinary  prudence  must  have 
dictated  to  her,  if  determined  on  the  crime,  the  ad- 
visability of  deferring  her  horrible  design  at  least  until 
she  had  cleared  herself  from  the  charge  under  which  she 
then  lay.  The  daily  inquiries  she  caused  to  be  made 
during  Adrienne's  illness,  of  which  Mile.  A'fsse  speaks 
with  such  indignation,  were  no  doubt  actuated  by  a  sincere 
desire  for  the  actress's  recovery ;  not,  of  course,  for  the 
poor  woman's  own  sake,  but  because  she  foresaw  that  her 

1  This  is  not  the  case. 

2  Lettres  de  Mademoiselle  d' Aisse  a  Madame  Calandrini,  p.  234  ft  seq. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  191 

death  at  such  a  time  would  render  her  own  position  even 
more  unpleasant  than  it  already  was. 

But  there  is  a  far  stronger  argument  in  the  duchess's 
favour  than  the  one  which  we  have  just  stated.  Adrienne's 
correspondence,  published  by  M.  Monval,  shows  that  for 
some  years  past  she  had  been  in  very  delicate  health. 
"  I  have  not  had  twelve  hours'  health  since  I  last  saw 
you,"  she  writes  to  d'Argental,  during  the  latter's  visit 
to  England  ;  while  in  other  letters  she  complains  of  being 
always  "  insupportably  fatigued,"  and  of  being  "  in  de- 
spair in  regard  to  her  health."  Moreover — and  this  is 
a  point  of  the  greatest  importance — she  was  subject  to  a 
chronic  affection  of  the  intestines,  and,  in  the  winter  of 
1725-1726,  had  had  an  attack  of  dysentery,  which  all  but 
proved  fatal;  the  very  malady  of  which  she  eventually  died 

It  would  therefore  appear  that,  however  strongly 
facts  may  point  to  Madame  de  Bouillon's  guilt  in  re- 
gard to  the  charge  brought  against  her  by  Bouret,  it 
would  be  manifestly  unjust  to  saddle  her  with  any  re- 
sponsibility for  Adrienne's  death.  Everything,  indeed, 
seems  to  indicate  natural  causes ;  nothing  confirms  the 
theory  of  poison. 

Adrienne  was  taken  ill  on  Tuesday,  March  14,  and 
she  died  on  the  following  Monday,  the  2Oth  inst. 
Maurice  de  Saxe,  Voltaire,  and  a  surgeon  named  Faget 
were  with  her  when  the  end  came  ;  and  the  faithful 
d'Argental,  who  had  been  hurriedly  summoned,  reached 
the  house  a  few  minutes  after  she  had  breathed  her  last. 
Neither  of  her  three  friends,  however,  though  each  pos- 
sessed influence  in  his  way,  was  able  to  save  the  remains 
of  the  celebrated  actress  from  the  worst  indignity  ever 
offered  to  those  of  a  member  of  the  theatrical  profession 
in  France. 


1 92      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Adrienne's  house  was  situated  in  the  parish  of  Saint- 
Sulpice,  the  cure  of  which,  Languet  de  Gergy,  was  one 
of  the  most  bigoted  and  obstinate  priests  in  Paris.  When 
the  end  was  seen  to  be  near,  he  was  sent  for  to  receive 
the  usual  renunciation  and  administer  the  last  Sacraments, 
but  accounts  differ  as  to  what  occurred.  Some  writers 
declare  that  when  he  arrived  the  actress  was  already  dead, 
or  at  least  on  the  point  of  death  ;  others  that  she  firmly 
refused  to  renounce  her  profession,  and,  on  the  cure  con- 
tinuing to  exhort  her  to  repentance,  pointed  with  out- 
stretched hand  to  a  bust  of  Maurice  de  Saxe  which  stood 
near  her  bed,  and  exclaimed  :— 

"  Voilh  mon  univers,  man  espoir,  et  mes  dieux  /  " 

What  is  certain,  is  that  Adrienne  died  without  the 
Sacraments,  and  that  Languet  de  Gergy  refused  her  not 
only  Christian  burial  (this,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  the 
invariable  practice  of  the  Paris  clergy  in  regard  to  members 
of  her  profession  who  had  died  under  similar  circum- 
stances, ever  since  the  time  of  Moliere),  but  interment  in 
the  cemetery  at  all,  even  in  that  portion  of  it  which  was 
reserved  for  heretics  and  unbaptized  children — a  refusal 
absolutely  without  precedent  in  the  history  of  the  theatre. 

In  the  morning  of  March  21,  an  autopsy  was  per- 
formed on  the  body  of  the  deceased  actress  (according  to 
Voltaire,  on  his  application),  when  the  doctors  decided 
that  Adrienne  had  died  a  natural  death,  an  opinion  to 
which  the  poet  himself  subscribes.1  Later  in  the  day, 
Maurepas,  in  his  capacity  of  Minister  for  Paris,  wrote 

1  Voltaire  wrote  and  signed  the  following  note  :  "  She  died  in  my 
arms  of  an  inflammation  of  the  intestines,  and  it  was  I  who  caused  an 
autopsy  to  be  performed.  All  that  Mile.  A'isse  says  on  the  subject  are 
only  popular  rumours  which  have  no  foundation." — Cited  by  M. 
Monval. 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  193 

to  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  informing  him  that  it  was 
the  intention  of  Cardinal  de  Fleury  not  to  interfere  in 
the  matter  of  ecclesiastical  burial,  but  to  leave  it  entirely 
to  the  discretion  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  and  the  cur6 
of  Saint-Sulpice.  "  If,"  he  added,  "  they  persist  in  refus- 
ing it  to  her,  as  they  appear  inclined  to  do,  she  must  be 
taken  away  to-night  and  interred  with  as  little  scandal  as 
possible."  1 

At  midnight,  accordingly,  the  mortal  remains  of  poor 
Adrienne  were  placed  in  a  hackney-coach,  and,  preceded 
by  two  street  porters  bearing  torches,  and  escorted  by  a 
squad  of  the  watch  and  a  M.  de  Laubiniere — whom 
Sainte-Beuve  supposes  to  have  been  a  friend  of  the  actress, 
but  who,  M.  Monval  thinks,  was  a  representative  of  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police — conveyed  to  a  piece  of  waste  land 
near  the  Seine,  and  there  buried,  quicklime  being  thrown 
over  the  body,  and  no  stone  or  mark  of  any  kind  being 
placed  to  indicate  where  it  lay.2 

The  refusal  of  admission  to  the  unconsecrated  portion 
of  the  cemetery — a  circumstance,  as  we  have  already 
observed,  absolutely  without  precedent3 — the  secret  re- 
moval, the  presence  of  the  representatives  of  the  Lieu- 

1  Sainte-Beuve,    Cauteries  du  Lundi,  i.    174.     This   letter  formed 
part  of  the  last  dossier. 

2  The  spot  where  Adrienne  was  buried  was  discovered,  m  1786,  by 
d'Argental.     It  was  at  the  south-east  angle  of  the  Rues  de  Crenelle  and 
de  Bourgogne,  on  ground  now  occupied  by  No.  1 1 5  in  the  former  street. 
The  old  man  erected  a  marble  tablet,  inscribed  with  some  rather  indifferent 
verses  of  his  own  composition,  to  the  memory  of  the  actress  on  an  adjoining 
wall.     "  This  tablet,"  says  M.  Monval,  "  is  still  preserved  by  Madame 
Jouvencel,  the  present  (1892)  owner  of  No.  115  Rue  de  Crenelle." 

3  Two  years  before  Adrienne's  old  teacher,  Le  Grand,  had  died,  also 
without  renouncing  his  profession.     He  was,  of  course,  denied  Christian 
burial,  but  no  objection  was  raised  by  the  cure  of  Saint-Sulpice  to  his 
interment  in  the  unconsecrated  portion  of  the  cemetery. 

N 


194      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

tenant  of  Police  at  the  interment,  the  precautions  taken 
to  destroy  the  corpse  by  quicklime  and  to  conceal  the 
grave,  all  point  to  an  intention  on  the  part  of  the  autho- 
rities to  render  a  second  autopsy  impossible.  But  the 
most  scandalous  part  of  the  whole  affair  is  the  conduct 
of  Languet  de  Gergy  and  his  superior,  the  Archbishop  of 
Paris,  in  lending  themselves  to  a  deliberate  attempt  to 
defeat  the  ends  of  justice  in  the  interests  of  Madame  de 
Bouillon  and  her  powerful  friends. 

A  question  which  has  naturally  given  rise  to  a  good 
deal  of  conjecture  is  the  conduct  of  Maurice  de  Saxe  on 
this  occasion.  Egotist  and  libertine  though  he  was,  he 
was  a  sincere  friend  and  capable  of  generous  impulses ; 
moreover,  even  at  this  period,  he  possessed  no  little 
influence  at  Court,  where  he  was  feared  even  more  than 
he  was  respected.  Such  being  the  case,  it  seems  almost 
inconceivable  that  he  should,  so  far  as  is  known,  have 
made  not  the  slightest  effort  to  save  the  remains  of  the 
woman  who  had  loved  him  so  long  and  so  tenderly  from 
so  gross  an  indignity.  In  our  opinion,  the  most  probable, 
as  well  as  the  most  charitable,  explanation  of  the  matter 
is,  that  Maurice  was  taken  completely  by  surprise ;  that 
the  arrangements  of  the  police  were  carried  out  with  such 
secrecy  and  despatch  that  no  inkling  of  their  intentions 
was  permitted  to  reach  him  until  it  was  too  late  for  him 
to  intervene. 

Another  of  Adrienne's  friends,  though,  like  Maurice, 
powerless  to  prevent  the  barbarous  treatment  to  which 
she  had  been  subjected,  protested  against  it  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  generous  nature.  On  the  morrow  of 
her  burial,  Voltaire  addressed  to  Falkener  a  letter  in 
verse,  in  which  he  recalled  the  honours  recently  paid  to 
two  English  actresses,  and  drew  an  eloquent  comparison 


ADRIENNE   LECOUVREUR  195 

between  their  pompous  obsequies  and  those  of  poor 
Adrienne,  who  had  been  denied  even  the  privilege  of 
"  two  tapers  and  a  coffin.'*  But  the  justly  indignant 
poet  went  much  further  than  this.  On  the  same  day, 
a  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  Comedie-Fransaise 
was  held  at  the  theatre.  Voltaire  attended,  and,  in  an 
eloquent  speech,  called  upon  the  actors  to  refuse  to 
exercise  their  profession  "  until  they  had  secured  for  the 
pensioners  of  the  King  the  rights  which  were  accorded  to 
those  who  had  not  the  honour  of  serving  his  Majesty." 
His  hearers  promised  to  follow  his  advice,  but  they  did 
nothing  in  the  matter.  The  age  of  strikes  had  not 
yet  arrived,  and  they  preferred  opprobrium  with  a  little 
money  to  honour  and  an  empty  treasury. 

Shortly  afterwards,  Voltaire  composed  his  fine  poem 
on  the  death  of  Adrienne,  in  which  he  gave  full  vent 
to  the  feelings  of  indignation  and  contempt  which 
consumed  him : — 

"  Que  direz-vous,  race  future, 
Lorsque  vous  apprendrez,  la  fletrissante  injure 
Qu'&  ces  arts  desol£s  font  des  hommes  cruel ! 

Us  privent  de  la  sepulture 
Celle  qui  dans  la  Grece  aurait  eu  des  autels. 
Quand  elle  6tait  au  monde,  ils  soupiraient  pour  elle  ; 
Je  les  ai  vu  soumis,  autour  d'elle  empresses  : 
Sitot  qu'elle  n'est  plus,  elle  est  done  criminelle  ! 
Eli«-  a  charm6  le  monde  et  vous  Ten  punissez  ! " 

The  annual  closing  of  the  theatre  took  place  on 
March  24,  when  Grandval,  as  the  youngest  socihaire, 
pronounced,  according  to  custom,  before  the  assembled 
company,  an  ttoge  upon  their  deceased  colleague.  This 
ttoge  had  been  written  by  Voltaire  himself,  and  with  it 
we  may  appropriately  conclude  our  sketch  of  this  cele- 


196      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

brated  actress,  who  was  not  only  a  great  artist,  but  a 
noble,  high-souled,  and  cultured  woman,  who  had  all  the 
feminine  virtues,  save  one,  for  the  lack  of  which,  when 
we  pause  to  consider  the  temptations  of  her  profession, 
the  moral  standard  of  the  age  in  which  she  lived,  and 
the  generosity  and  devotion  she  displayed  towards  those 
who  had  won  her  heart,  we  shall  find  it  difficult  not 
to  pardon  her  : — 

"  I  feel,  Messieurs,  that  your  regrets  recall  that 
inimitable  actress,  who  might  almost  be  said  to  have 
invented  the  art  of  speaking  to  the  heart  and  of  pre- 
senting sentiment  and  truth  where  once  had  been  shown 
little  but  artificiality  and  declamation. 

"  Mile.  Lecouvreur — permit  us  the  consolation  of 
naming  her — made  one  feel  in  every  character  which 
she  impersonated  all  the  delicacy,  all  the  soul,  all  the 
decorum  that  one  could  desire  :  she  was  worthy  to  speak 
before  you,  Messieurs.  Among  those  who  deign  to 
listen  to  me  are  several  who  honoured  her  by  their 
friendship ;  they  are  aware  that  she  was  the  ornament 
of  society,  as  well  as  of  the  theatre ;  while  those  who 
knew  her  only  as  the  actress  can  readily  judge,  from 
the  degree  of  perfection  to  which  she  had  attained,  that 
not  only  had  she  an  abundance  of  wit,  but  that  she 
further  possessed  the  art  of  rendering  wit  amiable. 

"  You  are  too  just,  Messieurs,  not  to  regard  this 
tribute  of  praise  as  a  duty :  I  dare  even  to  say  that,  in 
regretting  her,  I  am  merely  your  interpreter.'* 

1  Lettres  d*  Adricnnc  Lecouvrtur,  by  M.  Georges  Monval,  p.  67. 


IV 
MADEMOISELLE    DE   CAMARGO 


IV 
MADEMOISELLE  DE  CAMARGO 

THE  Abbe  d'Allainval,  in  his  Lettre  a  Mylord  .  .  .  sur 
Baron  et  la  demoiselle  Lecouvreur,  reminds  his  mythical 
correspondent  that  he  had  found  in  Paris  four  wonders : 
(i)  The  Tuileries.  (2)  The  acting  of  the  demoiselle 
Lecouvreur.  (3)  The  dancing  of  the  demoiselle  Camargo. 
(4)  The  voice  of  the  demoiselle  Lemaure.  It  is  of 
the  third  of  these  wonders  that  we  are  now  about  to 
speak. 

Marie-Anne  de  Cupis  de  Camargo,  the  most  cele- 
brated danseuse  of  her  time,  whose  talents  have  been 
exalted  by  the  chroniclers,  sung  by  the  poets,  celebrated 
in  every  way  in  both  prose  and  verse,  and  immortalised 
by  Voltaire,  was  born  at  Brussels  on  April  10,  1710. 
On  her  father's  side,  she  was  descended  from  "  one  of 
the  noblest  families  in  Rome,"  which  had  given  to  the 
Church  a  cardinal,  an  archbishop,  and  various  minor 
dignitaries.  Through  her  grandmother,  she  was  related 
to  the  Spanish  house  of  Camargo,  and  it  was  under  this 
name  that  she  pirouetted  into  fame. 

The  means  of  Marie-Anne's  father,  Ferdinand  Joseph 
de  Cupis,  "  seigneur  de  Renoussart,"  were,  unfortunately, 
very  far  from  equal  to  his  birth  and  connections ;  nor 
was  his  position  rendered  any  easier  by  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  imprudent  enough  to  espouse  a  lady  as 
high-born  and  as  poor  as  himself,  who,  in  default  of 


199 


200      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

a  dot,  had  presented  him  with  seven  pledges  of  her 
affection.  He  lived  at  Brussels,  "  on  the  crumbs  which 
fell  from  the  table  of  the  Prince  de  Ligne,"  and  the  fees 
he  received  from  giving  music  and  dancing  lessons,  and 
gallantly  endeavoured  to  bring  his  children  up  in  a  manner 
befitting  those  of  a  gentleman  "  who  could  prove  sixteen 
quarterings  on  both  his  father  and  mother's  side." 

Such  a  treasure  as  Marie-Anne  promised  to  become, 
however,  was  worthy  of  any  sacrifice.  "  Hercules  in  his 
cradle,"  says  Castil-Blaze,  "  strangled  the  serpents  who 
came  to  devour  him.  The  talent  of  Mile,  de  Camargo 
was  not  less  precocious.  While  she  was  in  the  arms  of 
her  nurse,  the  sound  of  a  violin  reached  her  ears,  and 
inspired  her  to  gestures  and  movements  so  animated,  so 
gay,  so  perfectly  harmonious  that  it  was  at  once  per- 
ceived that  this  virtuoso  of  six  months  would  one  day 
be  one  of  the  first  danseuses  in  Europe."  l  The  delighted 
M.  de  Cupis  thenceforth  devoted  every  moment  he  could 
spare  to  the  instruction  of  his  little  daughter,  and  at  the 
age  of  ten  Marie-Anne  danced  so  charmingly  in  the 
salons  of  Brussels,  that  every  one  vowed  that  it  would  be 
nothing  less  than  a  crime  to  withhold  from  her  the 
applause  of  the  public.  Accordingly,  the  noble  dancing- 
master's  consent  having  been  obtained,  the  Princesse  de 
Ligne  and  some  other  ladies  of  the  Court  clubbed  to- 
gether, and  sent  her  at  their  own  expense  to  Paris,  to 
take  lessons  from  Mile.  Prevost,  then  the  queen  of  the 
Opera. 

After  remaining  in  Paris  for  some  months,  and 
learning  all  that  Mile.  Prevost  could  teach  her,  the  little 
girl  returned  to  Brussels,  and  made  her  d&but  at  the 
theatre  with  such  astonishing  success  that,  in  spite  of  her 

1  La  Dame  et  des  Ballets ,  p.  190. 


MADEMOISELLE  PREVOST 
From  the  painting  by  JEAN  RAOUX,  in  the  Mus£e  of  Tours 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         201 

youth,  she  was  appointed  premiere  danseuse.  This  posi- 
tion she  held  for  three  years,  when  Pelissier,  director  of 
the  Rouen  theatre,  offered  her  an  engagement.  Marie- 
Anne  wished  to  accept  the  offer ;  Rouen,  ever  since  the 
days  of  Moliere,  had  been  regarded  as  the  conservatoire 
of  the  Paris  theatres ;  its  playgoers  were  not  only  the 
most  enthusiastic,  but  the  most  critical  in  France,  and 
the  actor,  singer,  or  danseuse  who  was  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  their  suffrages  might  reckon  with  certainty  on 
a  favourable  reception  in  the  capital.  M.  de  Cupis, 
however,  demurred ;  he  did  not  wish  to  allow  his  daugh- 
ter to  go  alone  to  Rouen,  neither  did  he  see  his  way  to 
leave  his  pupils  at  Brussels  ;  and  it  was  not  until  Pelissier 
offered  him  the  post  of  ballet-master,  and  his  eldest  son, 
Fran9oise,  a  place  in  the  orchestra  that  he  gave  his  con- 
sent, and  the  whole  Cupis  family  set  out  for  Normandy. 

Poor  M.  de  Cupis  would  not  have  been  so  ready  to 
turn  his  back  on  Brussels  had  he  been  aware  that  Pelissier 
was  hovering  on  the  verge  of  bankruptcy,  and  that  his 
engagement  of  Marie-Anne  was  merely  intended  to  stave 
off  the  evil  day  a  little  longer.  For  a  time,  however,  all 
went  well ;  Marie-Anne's  dancing  delighted  the  critical 
Rouennais,  even  more  than  it  had  the  indulgent  Flemings, 
and  the  theatre  was  crowded  every  night  with  applauding 
spectators.  But  her  triumphs  came  too  late  to  save 
Pelissier;  and  one  fine  spring  morning,  in  1726,  that 
gentleman  failed,  and  danseuse,  ballet-master,  and  musi- 
cian found  themselves  out  of  employment. 

Matters  looked  serious  indeed  for  the  seigneur  de 
Renoussart  and  his  seven  children ;  but,  happily,  at  that 
moment  Fortune  knocked  at  their  door,  in  the  shape  of 
Francine,  who  was  about  to  become  Director  of  the  Paris 
Opera.  The  fame  of  the  little  prodigy  had,  it  appeared, 


202      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

reached  the  capital,  and  Francine  had  journeyed  to  Rouen 
to  offer  her  a  debut  at  the  Academic  Royale  de  Musique. 

The  offer,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  joyfully  accepted, 
and  Marie-Anne,  with  her  family  in  her  train,  migrated 
to  Paris.  Here  she  decided  to  abandon  her  patronymic, 
in  favour  of  that  of  her  grandmother,  which  had  a  more 
artistic  sound;  and  on  May  5,  1726,  made  her  debut 
under  the  name  of  Mile,  de  Camargo. 

Mile.  Prevost,  already  jealous  of  her  former  pupil, 
perhaps  from  a  presentiment,  had  treacherously  advised 
her  to  make  her  debut  in  a  ballet  called  Les  Caracteres  de 
la  danse,  in  a  step  so  difficult  that  none  but  the  most 
celebrated  dancers  ever  dared  to  attempt  it.  But,  to  her 
intense  mortification,  Mile,  de  Camargo  not  only  per- 
formed every  movement  correctly,  but  with  a  brilliancy, 
a  verve,  a  vivacity  which  far  surpassed  all  her  predecessors. 
"  Never,"  says  a  contemporary  writer,  "  had  the  audito- 
rium resounded  with  such  applause  as  that  which  greeted 
the  debutante.  Such  was  the  enthusiasm  of  the  public 
that  nothing  else  was  talked  about  but  the  young 
Camargo."  All  the  new  fashions  were  named  after  her : 
coiffures  a  la  Camargo,  gowns  a  la  Camargo,  sleeves  h  la 
Camargo,  shoes  a  la  Camargo}-  On  the  second  night  on 
which  she  appeared,  there  were  twenty  duels  and  quarrels 
without  number  at  the  doors  of  the  Opera;  all  Paris 
was  determined  to  get  in,  even  at  the  sword-point. 

Mile,  de  Camargo  was  not  beautiful ;  indeed  some  of 
her  contemporaries  go  so  far  as  to  assert  that  she  was 
positively  ugly :  "  a  real  monster,  like  her  predecessor 
Mile.  Prevost,"  says  one  ungallant  critic ;  while  Noverre 

1  Her  shoemaker,  one  Choisy  by  name,  found  himself  on  a  sudden 
overwhelmed  with  customers.  All  the  ladies  of  the  Court  and  the  town 
wanted  to  be  shod  by  the  man  who  made  such  divine  little  shoes. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         203 

declares  that  "  Nature  had  denied  her  every  imaginable 
grace,"  and  that  she  was  "  neither  tall,  nor  pretty,  nor 
well-formed."  But  whatever  may  have  been  her  defects 
of  face  or  figure,  they  did  not  interfere  with  her  profes- 
sional success.  "  The  moment  she  began  to  dance  people 
forgot  her  face.  Besides,  no  one  had  time  to  see  whether 
she  was  ugly  or  beautiful,  so  light  and  rapid  were  her 
movements.  Her  skips  and  twirls  bewildered  the 
audience.  Then  her  countenance  was  changed,  trans- 
figured. '  Then  her  black  eyes  were  full  of  smiles  and 
provocations,  while  her  laughing  lips  revealed  her  ivory 
teeth.'  She  did  not  seem  to  dance  for  the  public,  but 
for  herself,  for  her  own  pleasure.  Never  had  one  ima- 
gined so  many  seductions,  so  many  caprices,  so  much 
gaiety.  '  It  would  be  vain,'  says  Cahusac,  '  to  seek  a 
playfulness  more  frank,  a  vivacity  more  natural.' " * 

Not  the  least  important  factor  in  the  success  of  the 
young  danseuse  seems  to  have  been  the  fashion  of  her 
skirt,  which  she  had  curtailed  to  a  point  which  the  most 
daring  of  her  predecessors  had  never  even  dreamed  of. 
This  innovation  was  extremely  popular  with  the  younger 
patrons  of  the  Opera,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  alarmed 
the  modesty  of  many  of  the  more  conservative  playgoers. 

"  Camargo,"  says  Grimm,  "  was  the  first  who  ven- 
tured to  abbreviate  her  skirts.  This  useful  invention, 
which  gave  amateurs  an  opportunity  of  passing  judg- 
ment upon  the  nether  limbs  of  a  danseuse,  has  since 
been  generally  adopted,  though,  at  the  time,  it  promised 
to  occasion  a  very  dangerous  schism.  The  Jansenists  in 
the  pit  cried  out  heresy  and  scandal,  and  refused  to 
tolerate  the  shortened  skirts.  The  Molinists,  on  the  con- 
trary, maintained  that  this  innovation  brought  us  nearer 

1  Gaboriau,  Les  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  128. 


204      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

to  the  spirit  of  the  primitive  Church,  which  objected  to 
seeing  pirouettes  and  gargouillades  hampered  by  the 
length  of  the  petticoats.  The  Sorbonne  of  the  Opera 
held  a  great  many  sittings  before  it  could  decide  which 
of  the  contending  parties  adhered  to  the  orthodox  doc- 
trine. Finally,  it  pronounced  in  favour  of  the  shortened 
skirts,  but  declared,  at  the  same  time,  as  an  article  of 
faith,  that  no  danseuse  should  appear  on  the  stage  sans 
calefon.  This  decision  has  since  become  a  fundamental 
article  of  discipline,  by  the  general  consent  of  all  the 
ruling  powers  of  the  Opera  and  of  all  the  faithful  who 
frequent  these  holy  places."  * 

The  regulation  respecting  the  wearing  of  a  calefon 
seems  to  have  been  the  result  of  a  disaster  which  befell  a 
young  ballerina  named  Mariette,  who  had  the  misfortune 
to  have  her  habiliments  torn  away  by  a  piece  of  projecting 
framework,  "  et  posa  pour  f  ensemble  devant  toute  la  salle^ 
•pendant  une  bonne  minute  au  mains."  There  was  consider- 
able difference  of  opinion,  Grimm  tells  us,  as  to  whether 
Mile,  de  Camargo  conformed  to  this  order,  which  would 
have  interfered  with  her  freedom  of  movement,  and  bets 
were  freely  made  on  the  subject.  But  when,  in  order  to 
decide  these  wagers,  some  one  ventured  to  question  the 
danseuse^  the  lady  replied,  "with  a  beautiful  blush  and 
her  eyes  modestly  lowered,"  that  without  such  a  "  pre- 
caution "  she  would  never  have  ventured  to  appear  in 
public.  Henceforth  at  the  Opera  the  calefon  was  known 
by  the  name  of  "  precaution." 

In  the  meanwhile  the  triumphs  of  Mile,  de  Camargo 
had  begun  to  seriously  alarm  Mile.  Prevost,  who  not 
only  saw  her  professional  pre-eminence  threatened  by  her 
former  pupil,  but  had  reason  to  fear  that  the  dancing- 

1   Corrcspondance  litteraire,  vi.  42. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         205 

master,  Blondi,  hitherto  her  slave,  regarded  the  young 
debutante  with  a  rather  more  than  friendly  interest. 
Perceiving  that  to  attempt  to  eclipse  her  on  the  stage 
would  only  be  to  court  certain  defeat,  she  had  recourse 
to  intrigue.  She  refused  to  continue  the  lessons  by 
which,  she  considered,  the  girl  had  already  too  greatly 
profited  ;  she  relegated  her  to  small  and  obscure  parts,  in 
which  she  had  no  opportunity  of  displaying  her  talents, 
and  even  declined  to  allow  her  to  appear  in  a  dance  in 
which  the  Duchesse  de  Berri  had  expressed  a  desire  to 
see  the  young  danseuse.  Finally,  she  succeeded  in 
banishing  her  to  the  back  row  of  the  chorus. 

With  so  powerful  and  unscrupulous  an  enemy  to 
contend  against,  poor  Camargo  might  have  remained 
"lost  in  the  vulgar  crowd  of  filles  a"  Opera"  for  the  rest 
of  her  days,  had  not  a  fortunate  accident  enabled  her  to 
assert  her  superiority  again,  and  this  time  in  a  manner 
which  it  was  impossible  for  the  ruling  powers  of  the 
Opera  to  ignore. 

One  evening  she  had  to  appear  amid  a  group  of 
demons,  on  whose  entrance  the  dancer  Dumoulin  was  to 
execute  upas  de  seul.  The  demons  trooped  in,  and  the 
orchestra  struck  up  the  opening  bars  of  Dumoulin's 
solo ;  but  the  dancer,  for  some  reason,  did  not  appear. 
Mile,  de  Camargo  saved  the  situation.  Leaving  the 
other  figurantes,  she  sprang  to  the  middle  of  the  stage, 
improvised  the  step  of  the  absent  Dumoulin,  and  danced 
so  magnificently  as  to  send  all  the  spectators  into  trans- 
ports of  enthusiasm.  Mile.  Prevost,  beside  herself  with 
passion,  vowed  that  she  would  ruin  her  youthful  rival, 
but  it  was  too  late ;  "  Terpsichore  was  dethroned,  and 
Mile,  de  Camargo  crowned  queen  of  the  Opera." 

"Yesterday,"  writes  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  to  one  of 


206      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

her  friends,  "  they  played  Roland  (an  opera  by  Quinault 
and  Lulli).  Mile.  PreVost,  although  she  surpassed  her- 
self, obtained  very  meagre  applause  in  comparison  with 
a  new  danseuse  named  Camargo,  whom  the  public 
idolise,  and  whose  great  merit  is  youth  and  vigour.  I 
doubt  whether  you  have  seen  her.  Mile.  Prevost  pro- 
tected her  at  first,  but  Blondi  has  fallen  in  love  with  her, 
and  she  is  consequently  annoyed.  She  appeared  jealous 
and  discontented  at  the  applause  of  the  public,  which 
has  now  reached  such  a  pitch  of  enthusiasm  that  the 
PreVost  will  be  foolish  if  she  does  not  make  up  her  mind 
to  retire." 

Mile.  Prevost  did,  in  fact,  retire  shortly  after  this 
letter  was  written,  and  Mile,  de  Camargo,  left  mistress 
of  the  field,  used  her  victory  to  such  good  purpose  that 
in  two  years'  time  she  had  completely  revolutionised  the 
ballet.  No  longer  did  the  spectators  sit  bored  or  indif- 
ferent through  the  languishing  attitudes  and  mechanical 
gestures  which  composed  the  old  ballet — that  solemn 
ceremony  in  which  le  Grand  Monarque  and  the  lords 
and  ladies  of  his  Court  had  occasionally  deigned  to 
take  part.  "  With  disdainful  foot  she  thrust  into  the 
abyss  of  oblivion  minuet,  saraband,  and  courant,  and 
replaced  by  rapidity,  agility,  and  lightness  all  the  antics 
that  had  been  admired  before  her  time,  but  which 
appeared  no  longer  endurable  once  one  had  seen  her."1 
Yet  she  owed  much  to  her  teachers — to  Mile.  Prevost, 
to  Blondi,  and  to  Dupre — and  the  style  of  dancing 
which  she  now  brought  into  fashion  seems  to  have  been 
a  combination  of  all  that  was  best  in  their  different 
methods,  joined  to  a  vivacity  and  piquancy  entirely  her 
own.  She  excelled  in  gavottes,  rigaudons,  and  in  all  of 

1   Gaboriau,  Let  Comediennes  adorees,  p.  151. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         207 

what  wer^  known  as  the  "grands  airs"  and  also  in  the 
graceful  Basque  dances,  which  she  substituted  for  the 
gargouillade,  judging  the  latter  to  be  unsuitable  for 
women.  But  her  greatest  triumph  was  a  certain  minuet 
step  which  she  executed  along  the  edge  of  the  footlights, 
first  from  right  to  left,  and  then  back  again.  "The 
public  awaited  it  with  impatience,  watched  it  with  intense 
interest,  and  applauded  it  rapturously."  Many  persons 
would  come  to  the  Opera  solely  to  witness  this  perform- 
ance, and  leave  as  soon  as  it  was  over. 

The  prestige  of  Mile,  de  Camargo  was  at  this  time 
so  great  that  the  ovations  she  received  were  not  confined 
to  the  theatre.  One  evening,  while  walking  in  the 
Tuileries  Gardens,  she  was  addressed  by  the  wife  of 
Marechal  de  Villars,  who  engaged  her  !n  conversation 
"  for  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour."  Meanwhile,  all 
who  happened  to  be  promenading  in  the  gardens 
flocked  to  the  spot,  formed  a  circle  round  the  two 
ladies,  and  began  to  clap  their  hands,  "  as  much  to 
testify  their  admiration  for  the  danseuse,  as  to  show 
Madame  de  Villars  how  highly  they  approved  of  her 
affability." 

Like  the  famous  Arlequin,  Dominique,  Mile,  de 
Camargo  was  very  gay  while  on  the  stage  and  very 
reserved  and  quiet  the  moment  she  had  quitted  it. 
While  dancing,  one  of  her  admirers  declares,  she 
seemed  "  the  very  priestess  of  pleasure  and  of  love." 
But  no  sooner  had  she  retired  into  the  wings,  than  she 
became  "melancholy  and  even  sad,"  while  her  countenance 
was  "  expressive  of  the  most  profound  ennui."  To  her 
colleagues  she  seldom  spoke,  unless  they  happened  to 
address  her,  when  she  responded  with  dignified  courtesy, 
as  became  the  collateral  descendant  of  a  cardinal,  the 


2o8      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

niece  of  a  Grand  Inquisitor,1  and  the  possessor  of  thirty- 
two  quarterings.  However,  as  she  was  good-natured 
and  obliging,  her  comrades  treated  the  queenly  airs  it 
pleased  her  to  assume  with  amused  indulgence,  and 
she  was  not  unpopular  among  them. 

Although,  as  we  have  mentioned,  the  young  danseuse 
had  no  pretensions  to  beauty,  she  was  nevertheless  capable 
of  arousing  granaes  passions,  and  her  adorers  were  many. 
For  two  years,  however,  after  her  first  appearance  at  the 
Opera,  the  "frigid  dignity"  of  her  demeanour  and  the 
unsleeping  vigilance  of  the  worthy  M.  de  Cupis  kept 
them  at  a  distance,  until  all,  save  one,  perceiving  that 
their  efforts  were  fruitless,  had  retired  from  the  field. 
The  exception  was  Jean  Alexandrc  Theodose,  Comte  de 
Melun,  who  loved  the  lady  with  a  passion  which  no 
rebuffs  could  extinguish,  no  difficulties  subdue.  His 
persistence  was  rewarded ;  Mile,  de  Camargo  took  pity 
upon  him,  and  granted  him  a  rendezvous,  which  was 
followed  by  others ;  and,  finally,  one  fine  night,  in  the 
month  of  May  1728,  the  amorous  nobleman  made  off  with 
both  her  and  her  sister  Sophie,  aged  thirteen,  who  also 
danced  at  the  Opera,  and  conveyed  them  to  his  hotel  in 
the  Rue  des  Coutures  Saint-Gervais.  Sophie,  it  appeared, 
had  refused  to  be  separated  from  her  sister,  and  had 
threatened  to  raise  an  alarm,  if  she  were  not  eloped 
with  too. 

This  affair  caused  an  immense  sensation;  poor  M.  de 
Cupis  was  furious ;  so  odious  an  act  of  violence,  he  con- 

1  "  While  Mile,  de  Camargo  delighted  the  Parisians  with  her  dancing, 
her  uncle,  Don  Juan,  employed  his  time  in  causing  Jews  and  sorcerers  to 
be  burned.  Don  Juan  de  Camargo,  Bishop  of  Pampeluna,  succeeded  Don 
Diego  d'Astorga  y  Cespedes  on  July  18,  1720,  and  was  the  thirty-fifth 
Inquisitor-General  in  Spain." — Castil-Blaze,  LaDanse  et  les  Ballets,  p.  1 96. 


8  § 

as  o 

<  — 

S  § 

u  g 

M 

W  D 

H  - 

"  e 

^  Z" 

o  s 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO        209 

sidered,  justified  an  appeal  for  redress  to  the  very  highest 
authority  in  the  land,  and,  sitting  down  at  his  desk,  he 
forthwith  indited  to  the  Prime  Minister,  Cardinal  de 
Fleury,  the  following  eloquent  petition : — 

"To  HIS  EMINENCE,  MONSEIGNEUR  LE  CARDINAL 
DE  FLEURY 

"  MONSEIGNEUR, — Ferdinand  Joseph  de  Cupis,  alias 
Camargo,  ecuyer,  seigneur  de  Renoussart,  represents  with 
the  deepest  respect  to  Your  Eminence,  that,  descended 
from  one  of  the  noblest  families  of  Rome,  which  has 
given  to  the  Roman  Church  an  Archbishop  of  Trani, 
a  Bishop  of  Ostia,  and  a  Cardinal  with  the  title  of  Saint- 
John  ante  Portam  Latinam,  doyen  of  the  Sacred  College, 
in  the  year  1577,  under  the  pontificate  of  Leo  X.,  and 
finding  himself  deprived  of  means,  by  the  misfortunes, 
the  lawsuits,  and  the  ravages  of  war  which  his  fathers 
had  experienced,  he  avoided  with  more  care  than  death 
anything  derogatory  to  his  birth  and  his  ancestors,  in 
whose  nobility  there  has  never  been  any  change,  not  even 
through  alliances,  the  petitioner  being  in  a  position  to 
prove  sixteen  quarterings  on  both  his  father  and  mother's 
side,  since  the  family  of  Cupis  quitted  Rome.  .  .  . 

"Unable  to  maintain  his  rank,  and  burdened  with 
seven  children,  he  has  sighed,  yet  without  murmuring, 
against  his  lot.  He  has  striven  to  develop  the  different 
talents  of  his  children,  and  to  instruct  them  in  those 
liberal  arts  which  might  enable  them,  without  derogating 
from  their  birth,  to  supply  the  needs  of  life  and  escape 
from  want,  while  awaiting  more  prosperous  days.  One 
he  has  had  instructed  in  music,  others  in  painting,  and 
others  again  in  dancing.  Among  the  last,  there  are  two 
girls,  now  aged  eighteen  and  thirteen  years  respectively. 


210      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

"  As  the  late  King,  of  glorious  memory,  decreed  that 
any  one  might  be  connected  with  the  Opera  without  loss 
of  dignity,  the  petitioner,  having  been  persuaded  and 
even  constrained  by  persons  who  had  perceived  the  great 
talents  of  the  elder,  could  not  refuse  his  consent  to  their 
entering  the  Opera,  although  on  condition  that  either  he 
or  his  wife  should  conduct  them  thither,  and,  in  like 
manner,  resume  charge  of  them  at  the  conclusion  of 
each  performance.  In  short,  the  elder,  who  has  now 
performed  for  three  years,1  has  always  behaved  with  per- 
fect propriety,  and  this  conduct  has  been  as  universally 
admired  as  her  dancing. 

"  But,  for  the  last  three  years,  M.  le  Comte  de  Melun 
has  had  recourse  to  the  arts  of  seduction  and  of  methods 
alike  unworthy  of  himself  and  of  the  petitioner.  .  .  . 
He  dared  to  propose  to  the  petitioner  that  he  should 
be  a  consenting  party  to  his  daughter's  dishonour,  in 
return  for  which  he  offered  to  surrender  to  him  the 
salary  which  she  received  at  the  Opera.  The  petitioner, 
having  treated  such  a  proposition  as  it  deserved,  the 
count  found  means  to  introduce  himself,  on  several 
nights,  into  his  daughters'  apartment,  and,  finally,  on 
the  night  of  the  loth  to  nth  of  the  month  of  May, 
he  carried  them  both  off,  and,  at  this  moment,  retains 
them  at  his  hotel  in  Paris,  Rue  de  la  Couture  Saint- 
Gervais  (sic). 

"  The  petitioner,  thus  dishonoured  no  less  than  his 
daughters,  would  have  taken  proceedings  in  the  ordinary 
way,  if  the  ravisher  had  been  a  private  individual ;  and 
the  laws  established  by  his  Majesty  and  his  august  pre- 
decessors provide  that  abduction  should  be  punished 

1  This  is  no  doubt  a  slip  of  the  pen.  Mile,  de  Camargo  had  only 
been  two  years  on  the  Paris  stage. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO        211 

with  death.  It  is  a  double  crime.  Two  sisters  are 
carried  off,  aged  respectively  eighteen  and  thirteen 
years. 

"  But  the  petitioner,  having  to  deal  with  a  person  of 
the  rank  of  the  Comte  de  Melun,  is  obliged  to  have 
recourse  to  the  maker  of  the  laws,  and  trusts  that  the 
King  in  his  bounty  will  see  that  he  has  justice,  and  will 
command  the  Comte  de  Melun  to  espouse  the  elder 
daughter  of  the  petitioner  and  to  furnish  the  younger 
with  a  dowry. 

"In  no  other  way  can  he  make  reparation  for  so 
terrible  an  outrage."  l 

The  only  effect  the  recital  of  the  noble  dancing- 
master's  wrongs  produced  on  the  Cardinal  seems  to  have 
been  one  of  amusement ;  and,  though,  a  week  later, 
Mile.  Sophie  returned  to  her  indignant  father,  the  elder 
sister,  whom  the  rules  of  the  Opera  emancipated  from 
parental  control,  remained  at  the  Comte  de  Melun's 
hotel.  That  nobleman,  however,  did  not  long  enjoy  a 
monopoly  of  the  lady's  favours,  while  her  extravagance 
annoyed  as  much  as  it  astonished  him.  He  therefore 
secured  to  her  an  income  of  1500  livres,  and  courteously 
intimated  that  they  must  part. 

The  notorious  Due  de  Richelieu,  who  regarded 
himself  as  the  principal  cause  of  the  ballerina's  rupture 
with  Melun,  and  desired  to  make  amends,  took  the 
count's  place ;  to  be,  in  his  turn,  succeeded  by  the 
Marquis  de  Sourdis,  for  whom  Mile,  de  Camargo  is 
said  to  have  conceived  " une  belle  passion"  The  mar- 
quis's predilection  for  the  ladies  of  the  Opera  had  already 

1  Revue  retrospective,  Seiie  I.  torn.  i.  (1833),  p.  401.  The  original 
letter  was,  at  this  time,  in  the  possession  of  Beffara. 


212      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

made  serious  inroads  on  his  patrimony ;  but  this  did  not 
prevent  him  from  lavishing  the  most  costly  presents  upon 
his  inamorata.  Before,  however,  he  had  succeeded  in 
quite  ruining  himself,  he  was  confronted  by  a  rival  whose 
pretensions  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  oppose. 

The  rival  in  question  was  a  Prince  of  the  Blood, 
Louis  de  Bourbon,  Comte  de  Clermont,  third  son  of 
Louis  III.  of  that  name  and  Mile,  de  Nantes,  legitimated 
daughter  of  le  Grand  Monarque  and  Madame  de  Mon- 
tespan.  Born  in  1709  and  destined  for  the  Church,  or, 
more  strictly  speaking,  for  the  emoluments  thereof,  he 
had  been  tonsured  in  infancy  and  loaded  with  benefices. 
Before  he  had  completed  his  eighth  year,  he  found 
himself  in  possession  of  the  revenues  of  the  rich  abbey 
of  Bec-Hellouin,  in  Normandy,  to  which  by  the  summer 
of  1733,  the  date  when  he  made  Mile,  de  Camargo's 
acquaintance,  had  been  added  some  half-dozen  others, 
with  an  aggregate  income  of  over  200,000  livres. 

A  curious  figure  was  this  descendant  of  the  Great 
Cond6  ;  " moitti plumet,  moitit  rabat"  monk  by  profession 
and  soldier  by  choice ;  "  owing  two  million  livres  in 
Paris  and  changing  his  mistress  every  day " ;  now 
regulating  the  affairs  of  one  of  his  abbeys,  now  scan- 
dalising the  devout  by  some  liaison  with  Opera  girl  or 
courtesan,  anon  distinguishing  himself  in  battle ;  witty, 
affable,  generous,  brave,  magnificent  in  his  pleasures,  and 
a  lover  and  patron  of  literature ;  the  only  prince  of  his 
house  then  living  in  whom  could  be  traced  a  resemblance 
to  their  illustrious  ancestor. 

Mile,  de  Camargo  had  by  this  time  acquired  the 
reputation  of  being  a  somewhat  expensive  luxury,  even 
for  a  prince.  Accordingly,  before  "  taking  her  into  his 
service,"  the  count-abbe  desired  to  rid  himself  of  two 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         213 

other  ladies,  both  of  whom  had  claims  upon  his  attention 
and  his  purse.  One  was  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon,  poor 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur's  enemy ;  the  other,  a  siren  of 
humble  birth,  named  Quoniam,  with  whom  he  had 
carried  on  an  intermittent  liaison  since  he  was  sixteen. 
On  the  principle  that  exchange  is  no  robbery,  it  was 
arranged  that  the  duchess  and  the  Marquis  de  Sourdis 
should  console  each  other ;  while  Clermont  experienced 
but  little  difficulty  in  persuading  his  nephew,  the  Prince 
de  Conti,  a  promising  young  gentleman  of  seventeen, 
to  take  Mile.  Quoniam  off  his  hands.  The  latter 
arrangement  led  to  much  unpleasantness  in  high  circles, 
for  the  Prince  de  Conti  had  two  years  before  taken  unto 
himself  a  wife,  in  the  person  of  Mile,  de  Chartres, 
daughter  of  the  late  Regent  and  sister  of  the  devout 
Due  d'Orleans.  The  duke  and  his  mother,  the  dowager- 
duchess,  were  furious,  and  it  was  rumoured  that  they 
had  obtained  a  lettre  de  cachet,  in  virtue  of  which  Mile. 
Quoniam  had  been  spirited  away  to  a  convent.  "This 
news,"  writes  Barbier  in  his  Journal,  "  was  general  in  the 
fashionable  world  ;  however,  it  is  not  true.  On  Sunday, 
August  5,  Mile.  Quoniam  went  to  the  Opera  and  took 
a  seat  in  a  box.  So  soon  as  the  young  men  in  the  pit 
caught  sight  of  her,  they  clapped  their  hands  to  show 
how  delighted  the  public  were  to  find  that  the  rumour 
was  unfounded.  In  the  evening,  she  went  to  the 
Tuileries.  All  the  princesses  of  the  House  of  Cond£ 
were  there,  which  caused  the  people  to  form  themselves 
into  two  lines  as  they  passed  by.  They  did  the  same 
for  Mile.  Quoniam,  and  congratulated  her  by  their 
gestures."  1 

With  the  Comte   de  Clermont,  Mile,  de   Camargo 

1  Journal  de  Barbier,  ii.  416. 


2i4      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

reached  the  highest  point  of  her  fortunes.  Her  lover 
could  refuse  her  nothing.  When  his  monastic  revenues 
proved  inadequate  to  satisfy  her  caprices,  he  ran  into 
debt,  and  when  his  credit  was  exhausted,  he  had  re- 
course to  stratagems  to  obtain  money  from  his  mother. 
The  Duchesse  de  Bourbon,  having  promised  to  settle  the 
claims  of  some  of  his  most  clamorous  creditors,  the 
count  instructed  his  steward,  Moncrif,  the  Academician, 
to  make  out  a  statement  showing  a  total  liability  of 
80,000  livres,  whereas  the  debts  in  question  did  not 
amount  to  much  more  than  half  that  sum.  The  balance 
he  was  to  remit  to  Mile,  de  Camargo  with  his  High- 
ness's  compliments.  Moncrif,  however,  fearing  the 
consequences  to  himself  should  the  duchess  ever  dis- 
cover the  trick  which  had  been  played  her,  revealed  the 
plot  to  the  old  lady,  and  so  the  ballerina  never  got  the 
money.  As  for  the  steward,  he  was  promptly  dismissed 
"  for  having  abused  his  master's  confidence." 

Such  was  the  count's  infatuation  for  his  en  :hantress 
that  he  was  "  even  jealous  of  the  pleasure  which  the  public 
shared  with  him  in  seeing  her  dance,"  and,  in  1736,  in- 
sisted on  her  quitting  the  Opera,  to  the  despair  of  all 
Paris.  If  we  are  to  credit  a  report  drawn  up  many  years 
later  by  the  Police-Inspector  Meusnier,  for  the  edification 
of  Madame  de  Pompadour,  "  his  passion  tyrannised  even 
over  the  quarter  where  she  resided,  so  that  the  neighbours 
did  not  dare  to  show  themselves  at  their  windows  or  to 
glance  in  the  direction  of  the  Camargo's  house."  l 

In  July  1737,  the  abbey  of  Saint-Germain-des-Pres, 

with  an  annual  revenue  of  160,000  livres,  became  vacant, 

by  the  death  of  old  Cardinal  de  Bissy.     The  Comte  de 

Clermont  had  long  had  a  covetous  eye  upon  this  rich 

1  She  was  then  living  in  the  Rue  Neuve-des-Petits-Champs. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO        215 

prize,  and  a  substantial  addition  to  his  income  was  im- 
peratively needed,  as  Mile,  de  Camargo's  extravagance 
had  reduced  him  to  such  straits  that,  in  the  previous 
December,   he   had   been   forced    to   sell  his   duchy   of 
Chateauroux  to  Louis  XV.,  who,  some  years  later,  con- 
ferred   it    on   his   mistress,    Madame   de   la   Tournelle. 
Deeming,  however,  that,  under  the  circumstances,  some 
concession   to    public   opinion    might   be    advisable,    he 
counterfeited  a  fit  of  devotion,  separated  from  his  mis- 
tress, who,  on  a  sudden,   disappeared  from  Paris,  and 
caused  a  report  to  be  circulated  that  she  had  been  im- 
prisoned by  order  of  the  King  in  Sainte-Pelagie.     No 
sooner,  however,  had  the  coveted  abbey  been  conferred 
upon  him,  than  Mdlle.  de  Camargo  reappeared  upon  the 
scene,  and  went  to  do  the  honours  of  the  Chateau  de 
Berny,  a  charming  country-house  situated  two  leagues 
from    Paris,  on   the  road  to  Orleans,   which  had  been 
acquired   by  the    monks   of  Saint-Germain-des-Pres   in 
1686,  with  the  price  of  the  lands  which  they  had  ceded 
to    Louis   XIV.   for   the   enlargement  of  the    park  of 
Versailles. 

At  Berny,  Clermont  erected  a  private  theatre,  upon 
whose  stage  the  fair  chatelaine,  we  may  presume,  occa- 
sionally condescended  to  appear,  though  Gaboriau  is 
indebted  to  his  imagination  for  the  statement  that  she 
was  in  the  habit  of  dancing  "pour  la  plus  grande  joie  des 
moines  ravis" *  as  the  chateau  was  the  private  residence  of 
the  abbot,  to  which  his  subordinates  were  never  admitted. 
If  they  desired  to  see  their  superior  on  business  connected 
with  the  abbey,  they  had  to  present  themselves  at  his 
hotel  in  the  Rue  de  Richelieu. 

Mile,  de  Camargo  presided  over  the  Chateau  of  Berny 

1  Les  Comediennes  adoreesy  p.  144. 


216      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

for  some  four  years,  when  an  obscure  figurante  of  the  Opera, 
Mile.  Le  Due  by  name,  "  a  creature  without  intelligence, 
without  manners,  without  principles,  without  a  soul,"1 
stole  away  the  heart  of  the  Comte  de  Clermont.  Mile.  Le 
Due  was  the  property  of  President  de  Rieux,  son  of  the 
celebrated  financier,  Samuel  Bernard,  who,  having  pur- 
chased the  lady's  affections  at  a  great  price,  was  naturally 
reluctant  to  surrender  them.  To  oppose  himself  to  a 
Prince  of  the  Blood  in  an  affair  of  such  importance  was 
more,  however,  than  he  had  the  courage  to  do  ;  and  so, 
one  day,  while  the  president  was  dispensing  justice  in  the 
Cour  des  Enqueues,  Mile.  Le  Due  bade  farewell  to  the 
luxurious  nest  which  the  luckless  judge  had  furnished  for 
her,  and  transferred  herself  and  her  belongings  to  Berny. 
Henceforth,  the  president  lived  only  for  revenge,  and 
racked  his  brains  to  discover  some  means  whereby  he 
might  humble  the  pride  of  the  Comte  de  Clermont,  and 
make  the  faithless  Le  Due  bitterly  rue  the  day  on  which 
she  had  so  basely  betrayed  him.  At  length,  he  resolved 
upon  the  following  plan  of  campaign  :  he  would  invite 
Mile,  de  Camargo  to  occupy  the  vacant  place  in  his  affec- 
tions, and  surround  her  with  such  luxury,  array  her  in 
such  toilettes,  load  her  with  such  presents  as  would  cause 
Mile.  Le  Due  to  die  of  envy,  and  her  monkish  lover  to 
gnaw  his  fingers  with  vexation.  He  accordingly  made 
overtures  to  the  deserted  ballerina,  which  were  promptly 
accepted ;  and  one  morning  all  Paris  was  talking  of  the 

1  Colle,  Journal  (edit.  1 868 ),  i.  31 7.  We  fear  that  Colle,  who  is  very 
severe  upon  the  lady,  is  hardly  an  impartial  witness,  as  elsewhere,  in  his 
Journal,  we  read  that  Mile,  le  Due  "  meddled  with  everything,  and 
prevented  the  Count  using  his  influence  except  on  behalf  of  herself  and 
her  base  vassals."  As  the  dramatist  was  a  protege  of  Clermont,  this 
would  seem  to  point  to  some  private  grievance  against  her. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         217 

magnificent  generosity  of  the  President  de  Rieux,  who 
had  sent  his  new  mistress  a  chastely- wrought  bowl  of 
solid  gold,  filled  to  the  brim  with  double  louis. 

The  Comte  de  Clermont  heard  of  the  president's 
gift,  and  hastened  to  accept  the  challenge.  In  the 
Journal  de  Police,  under  date  March  1742,  we  read : — 

"  On  Thursday,  March  22,  1742,  the  Demoiselle  Le 
Due,  formerly  mistress  of  the  President  de  Rieux,  drove 
to  the  Tenebrae  at  Longchamps1  in  a  caleche  of  cane 
painted  blue,  with  all  the  chains  of  silver,  drawn  by  six 
ponies  no  bigger  than  dogs,  ridden  by  a  little  postilion 
and  a  little  hussar,  the  first  in  a  red  waistcoat  all  galooned 
with  silver,  and  with  a  blue  plume  in  his  hat ;  the  other 
in  a  blue  tunic,  with  his  sabre  and  cap  decorated  with 
plaques  of  silver.  The  Le  Due  held  the  horses'  reins, 
and  was  escorted  by  two  footmen. 

"This  luxurious  equipage  was  a  gallantry  of  the 
Comte  de  Clermont,  Abb6  of  Saint-Germain,  to  flatter 
the  vanity  of  the  Le  Due,  who  occupies  the  post  of  his 
favourite  sultana,  which  the  Camargo  enjoyed  up  to  the 
end  of  the  year  1741. 

"  The  goddess  of  the  f£te  responded  to  this  magnificent 
gallantry  by  attire  still  richer  and  more  elegant,  of  blue 
and  silver  ;  she  had  for  companions  in  her  caleche  her  sister 
and  the  Cartou.2  A  number  of  other  actresses  filled  three 
coaches  in  the  suite  of  Madame  1'Abbesse,  and  wore  her 
colours  of  blue  and  silver. 

"  All   the  people  at  Longchamps,  on  horseback,  in 

1  The  Tenebrae  service  at  the  Abbey  of  Longchamps  on  Wednesdays 
and  Thursdays  in  Holy  Week  was  a  fashionable  function  at  this  period. 
Its  popularity  dated  from  1727,  when  the  famous  singer,  Mile.  Lemaure, 
took  the  veil,  and  transferred  her  services  from  the  stage  of  the  Opera  to 
the  abbey  choir. 

2  See  p.  1 80,  note,  supra. 


2i 8      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

coaches,  or  in  calhhes,  formed  a  procession  in  the  rear  of 
this  troupe  of  vestals,  through  curiosity  or  for  the  sake 
of  amusement.  .  .  . 

"Jests  and  songs  at  the  expense  of  the  Comte  de 
Clermont  have  not  been  wanting,  and  the  King  has  inti- 
mated to  him  that  he  is  displeased  and  scandalised. 

"  Here  is  a  placard  which  has  been  composed  on  the 
matter : — 

< "  THE 

* "  TRIUMPH   OF   VICE 

*"At  the  Theatre  of  Longchamps, 

«"By  MLLE.  LE  Due. 

*  "  Thejirst  representation  given  on  Holy  Wednesday,  March  21. 
On  Friday  the  Theatre  will  be  closed."  '  * 

The  duel  between  the  abb6  and  the  judge  and 
their  respective  sultanas  continued  until  both  gentle- 
men were  nearly  ruined ;  but  victory  ultimately  rested 
with  the  Church,  as  Mile,  de  Camargo  and  the  Pre 
sident  de  Rieux  soon  grew  tired  of  one  another  and 
agreed  to  separate,  the  latter  making  the  ballerina  a 
present  of  40,000  crowns  out  of  what  was  left  of  his 
fortune.  After  this  adventure,  according  to  the  report 
drawn  up  by  Meusnier,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken, 
Mile,  de  Camargo's  old  inclination  for  the  Marquis 
de  Sourdis  revived  and  they  resumed  their  interrupted 
liaison.  Their  respective  positions  were  now,  however, 
reversed,  as  the  Marquis  had  fallen  on  evil  days, 
and  become  so  poor  that  his  mistress  had  to  pledge 
her  earrings  and  necklace  to  enable  him  to  live  in  a 
manner  befitting  his  rank. 

In  the  meanwhile,  the  danseuse  had  returned  to  the 

1  Cited  by  Julei  Cousin,  Le  Comte  de  Clermont,  sa  cour  et  ses  mattresses. 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         219 

Opera,  where  she,  of  course,  met  with  an  enthusiastic 
reception. 

"  L£gere  et  forte  en  sa  souplesse, 
La  vive  Camargo  sautait," 

wrote  Voltaire.  Nevertheless,  she  had  now  to  be 
content  with  a  divided  empire.  During  her  long 
absence,  a  new  star  had  arisen,  in  the  person  of  a 
Mile.  Salld,  with  whom  the  Camargo  had  henceforth 
to  share  the  applause  of  the  public  and  the  praises 
of  the  poets.  Mile.  Salle's  style  of  dancing  differed 
widely  from  that  of  her  celebrated  rival.  Whereas  the 
latter  danced  with  astonishing  rapidity  and  rose  so  high 
from  the  stage  that  "it  seemed  as  if  she  were  going 
to  touch  the  friezes,"  Mile.  Salle  danced  slowly  and 
with  the  minimum  of  exertion,  relying  for  effect  upon 
grace  of  movement  and  voluptuous  poses. 

The  rivalry  between  the  two  stars  was  very  bitter, 
and  all  attempts  to  promote  a  better  understanding 
proved  fruitless,  although  Voltaire  himself  intervened, 
and  addressed  to  the  ladies  some  graceful  lines,  in 
which  he  adroitly  divided  his  praises  between  them  :  — 

"  Ah  !  Camargo,  que  vous  etes  brillante  ! 
Mais  que  Sall£,  grands  dieux  !  est  ravissante  ! 

Que  vos  pas  sont  lagers,  et  que  les  siens  sont  doux  ! 

Elle  est  inimitable  et  vous  £tes  nouvelle. 
Les  Nymphes  sautent  comme  vous, 
Et  les  Graces  dansent  comme  elle." 

In  spite  of  the  rivalry  of  Mile.  Salle,  the  fame  of 
the  elder  ballerina  was  still  sufficient  to  have  satisfied 
a  less  exacting  artiste.  An  air  to  which  she  danced  in 
the  first  act  of  Pyramt  et  Thisbt  excited  such  enthusiasm 
that  it  became  the  vogue  of  the  salons,  first,  as  a  song, 


220      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

and,  later,  as  a  dance,  which  was  called  after  the 
danseuse,  the  "Camargo,"  and  by  that  name  was  still 
known  a  century  later. 

Her  triumphs  in  the  dance  encouraged  Mile,  de 
Camargo  to  tempt  fortune  in  another  emploi,  and,  in 
an  opera  called  Les  Talents  fyrigues,  she  accordingly 
made  her  debut  as  a  singer.  She  had  a  very  pretty  voice, 
and  was  much  applauded ;  but,  for  some  reason,  did  not 
repeat  the  experiment. 

At  the  age  of  forty-one,  conscious  that  she  no 
longer  possessed  the  " souplesse  forte  et  Ugkre"  which 
Voltaire  had  once  celebrated,  Mile,  de  Camargo  decided 
to  retire,  and,  at  Easter  1751,  quitted  the  scene  of  her 
many  triumphs,  never  to  return.  Her  popularity  had 
endured  to  the  last,  for  Casanova,  who  saw  her  dance 
some  months  earlier,  declares  that  the  public  applauded 
her  "with  a  kind  of  frenzy." 

On  her  retirement,  she  received  a  pension  of  1500 
livres,  instead  of  the  usual  1000,  and  another  pension 
of  a  like  amount  from  the  King.  She  had,  however, 
little  need  of  such  assistance,  as,  more  prudent  than 
most  of  her  colleagues,  she  had  found  secure  invest- 
ments for  a  considerable  portion  of  the  sums  which 
her  various  admirers  had  lavished  upon  her ;  while,  if 
Meusnier  is  correct,  she  was  in  receipt  of  an  annual 
allowance  of  12,000  livres  from  the  Comte  de  Clermont, 
which  would  have  been  materially  increased,  but  for 
the  interference  of  Mile.  Le  Due. 

Henceforth  she  ceased  to  interest  the  town.  In 
1753,  we  learn  that  she  has  taken  unto  herself  another 
impecunious  lover,  a  certain  Chevalier  de  la  Guerch£, 
"  who  lived  with  her,  and  the  whole  of  whose  expenses 
she  defrayed,"  after  which  we  hear  no  more  of  her  until 


MADEMOISELLE   DE   CAMARGO         221 

the  chroniclers  record  her  death,  which  took  place  on 
April  28,  1770,  at  the  age  of  sixty.  She  was  then  living 
in  the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  "  like  a  respectable  bourgeoise, 
very  assiduous  in  visiting  the  poor  of  her  parish,  and 
always  surrounded  by  a  dozen  dogs,  to  whom  she  was 
much  attached."  She  was  nursed  in  her  last  illness 
by  the  widow  of  Fran£ois  Boucher,  the  famous  painter. 

The  best-known  portrait  of  Mile,  de  Camargo  is 
that  by  Lancret,  in  the  Wallace  Collection,  at  Hertford 
House.  An  original  repetition  of  this  portrait,  with 
a  marked  variation  in  the  colour  scheme,  is  in  the 
Museum  at  Nantes.  The  Neues  Palais  at  Potsdam  con- 
tains another  portrait  by  Lancret,  entitled  La  Camargo 
avec  son  danseur,  which  shows  the  ballerina  in  the  act  of 
executing  a  pas  de  deux  with  a  male  dancer.1 

1  Catalogue  of  the  Wallace  Collection. 


JUSTINE   FAVART 


JUSTINE   FAVART 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  there 
lived  in  the  Rue  de  la  Verrerie,  in  Paris,  a  pastry-cook 
named  Charles  Paul  Favart.  No  ordinary  pastry-cook 
was  Charles  Paul ;  he  was  a  man  of  parts  and  a  poet ; 
but  a  poet  of  an  unusually  practical  turn  of  mind, 
inasmuch  as,  instead  of  contributing  sonnets  to  the 
Mercure,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  utilising  his  talent  to 
advertise  the  excellence  of  his  wares,  with  the  result 
that  his  buns1  and  cakes  were  famed  throughout  the 
length  and  breadth  of  Paris. 

The  enterprising  pastry-cook  might  have  amassed 
a  comfortable  fortune,  had  he  been  content  with  the 
profits  of  his  trade.  But,  unhappily,  he  became  involved 
in  the  craze  for  speculating  in  Mississippi  stock  ;  and, 
on  his  death,  his  wife  and  two  children  found  them- 
selves almost  unprovided  for.  The  eldest  of  these 
children,  a  boy  named  Charles  Simon,  who  had  in 
herited  the  paternal  turn  for  verses,  was  at  this  time 
pursuing  his  studies  at  the  famous  college  of  Louis- 
le-Grand,  where  he  had  already  gained  some  little 
distinction.  Forced  to  abandon  the  cultivation  of  the 
Muses  to  take  charge  of  his  father's  business,  which, 

1  Favart  is  said  to  have  claimed  that  he  had  invented  the  bun.  But, 
as  several  learned  writers  assert  that  it  was  in  vogue  in  the  time  of  the 
Crusades,  he  probably  only  meant  that  he  had  perfected  it.  See  Des- 

noiresterres,  Epicuriens  et  Lettres,  p.  182. 

225  p 


226      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

though  burdened  with  debt,  still  remained  to  them, 
he  nevertheless  contrived,  in  the  intervals  of  making 
pastry,  to  compose  a  poem  on  La  France  delivree  par 
la  pucelle  d*  Orleans^  which,  in  1733,  was  awarded  the 
prize  of  the  Academic  des  Jeux  Floraux.  He  had 
already,  in  collaboration  with  another  young  poet, 
written  a  piece  called  Polinchinelle,  comte  de  Paonfier, 
performed  at  the  Fair  of  Saint-Germain ;  and,  in  the 
following  year,  he  submitted  to  the  Opera-Comique  a 
vaudeville,  entitled  Les  Deux  Jumelles,  which  was  pro- 
duced on  March  22,  and  met  with  a  very  favourable 
reception. 

Next  day,  while  Favart,  girt  with  his  apron,  his 
shirt-sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbow,  a  square  cap  on 
his  head,  and  a  larding- pin  in  his  hand,  was  working 
in  his  shop  in  the  Rue  de  la  Verrerie,  a  coach  drove 
up  to  the  door,  out  of  which  stepped  an  elderly 
gentleman,  very  richly  dressed,  who  inquired  for  M. 
Favart,  the  author  of  Les  Deux  Jumelles.  Poor  Favart, 
ashamed  for  the  moment  of  revealing  his  identity, 
replied  that  he  would  go  and  summon  him,  and,  running 
up  to  his  bedroom,  hastily  removed  the  signs  of  his 
trade,  rolled  down  his  shirt-sleeves,  donned  his  best  coat, 
and  returned  to  the  shop  to  greet  his  amused  visitor. 

The  latter,  it  transpired,  was  a  wealthy  farmer- 
general,1  who  had  a  fancy  for  playing  the  part  of 
Maecenas.  He  had  been  present  at  the  performance 
at  the  Opera-Comique,  the  previous  evening,  and  had 
been  so  charmed  with  the  piece  that  he  had  made 
inquiries  concerning  its  author,  and,  on  learning  that  he 
was  a  young  man  without  means  of  his  own,  had  resolved 

1  We  are  not  told  the  name  of  the    farmer-general.      In   Favart' 8 
Memoircs  he  is  referred  to  merely  as  M.  B***. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  227 

to  offer  him  his  protection.  "  I  have  myself,"  said  he, 
"  been  on  bad  terms  with  Fortune ;  but  she  has  ended  by 
caressing  me,  and  I  find  no  better  way  of  using  her 
favours  than  to  employ  them  to  the  advantage  of  the 
arts  and  literature.'* 

Thanks  to  the  assistance  of  the  generous  financier, 
Favart  was  enabled  to  relinquish  his  business  and  devote 
himself  entirely  to  play-writing.  In  the  course  of  the 
next  few  years,  he  provided  the  lesser  theatres  with  more 
than  a  score  of  pieces,  one  of  which,  La  Chercheuse 
d" 'esprit,  played  at  the  Opera-Comique,  in  1741,  met  with 
extraordinary  success.  Up  to  this  time,  Favart's  pieces 
had  appeared  anonymously,  but,  encouraged  by  the 
enthusiastic  reception  accorded  to  the  play  in  question,  he 
now  decided  to  emerge  from  his  shell,  and,  in  accordance 
with  this  resolution,  gave  a  dinner  to  some  of  the  most 
noted  beaux  csprits  and  authors  of  the  time.  Among 
those  present  was  Crebillon  pere,  who  received,  with  his 
invitation,  a  delicate  specimen  of  the  dramatist's  culinary 
skill,  an  attention  which  he  acknowledged  by  the 
following  quatrain : — 

"II  est  un  auteur  en  credit, 
Dont  la  muse  a  le  don  de  plaire  : 
II  fit  la  Chercheuse  cTesprit, 
II  n'en  chercha  point  pour  la  faire." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  year  1744,  Favart  was 
entrusted  by  the  director  of  the  Opera,  of  which  the 
Opera-Comique  was  a  dependency,  with  the  manage- 
ment of  the  latter  theatre ;  and  it  was  while  occupying 
this  post  that  an  incident  occurred  which  was  to  be  the 
starting-point  of  some  very  surprising  adventures. 

One  day,  in  the  following  January,  Favart  received 


228      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

a  letter  from  a  lady  at  Luneville,  soliciting  for  her 
daughter  an  engagement  at  the  Opera-Comique  as 
singer  and  dancer.  The  writer  of  the  letter  was  a 
certain  Madame  Duronceray,  the  wife  of  one  of  the 
musicians  of  the  chapel  of  Stanislaus  Leczinski,  ex- 
King  of  Poland,  to  which  she  herself  was  attached. 
The  daughter  on  whose  behalf  she  wrote,  Marie  Justine- 
Benoite  Duronceray,  was,  it  appeared,  now  in  her 
eighteenth  year,  had  been  educated  by  the  most  skilful 
masters,  under  the  personal  supervision  of  King  Stanislaus 
himself,  and,  to  judge  from  the  fond  mother's  letter,  was 
a  perfect  little  prodigy,  who  united  in  her  person  every 
imaginable  accomplishment. 

The  director  returned  an  encouraging  answer,  and  the 
two  ladies,  having  obtained  the  necessary  leave  of  absence 
from  the  King,  started  for  Paris,  and,  on  their  arrival, 
lost  no  time  in  presenting  themselves  at  Favart's  house. 

The  result  of  the  interview  proved  that  Madame 
Duronceray  had  not  exaggerated  her  daughter's  talents. 
As  actress,  singer,  and  dancer,  the  girl  showed  remark- 
able promise,  while  she  was  as  charming  as  she  was 
accomplished.1  A  very  brief  examination  sufficed  to 
assure  Favart  that  he  had  discovered  a  most  valuable 
acquisition  to  his  troupe ;  and  it  was  at  once  arranged 
that  Mile.  Chantilly,  as  Justine  had  decided  to  call 
herself,  out  of  deference  for  a  branch  of  the  Duronceray 
family  which  lived  in  Paris  and  might  conceivably  have 

1  Justine's  portraits,  the  most  pleasing  of  which  is  perhaps  Flipart's 
engraving  of  the  drawing  by  Charles  Nicolas  Cochin  Jils,  reproduced  in 
this  volume,  show  us  a  pretty  and  vivacious-looking  young  woman,  but 
with  features  somewhat  too  irregular  for  beauty.  It  is  probable,  however, 
that  the  attraction  which  she  possessed  for  her  contemporaries  was,  like 
that  of  Mile.  Moliere,  of  the  kind  in  which  Nature  plays  the  lesser  part, 
and  the  desire  to  please  the  greater. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  229 

taken  umbrage  at  one  of  their  name  appearing  on  the 
stage,  should  make  her  d&but  in  a  piece  from  Favart's 
own  pen,  which  he  was  then  writing,  in  celebration  of 
the  approaching  marriage  of  the  Dauphin  with  the 
Infanta  Maria  Theresa.  The  title  of  this  vaudeville, 
Les  Fetes  publiques,  has  alone  come  down  to  us ;  but, 
whatever  its  merits  may  have  been,  it  was  highly  suc- 
cessful, the  new  actress's  piquant  beauty  and  grace,  no 
less  than  her  vocal  and  dramatic  talents,  being  loudly 
acclaimed  by  a  succession  of  crowded  houses. 

The  charms  of  Justine  had  already  made  a  deep 
impression  upon  Favart,  and,  after  her  triumph  in  Les 
Fetes  publiqu.es ^  he  became  so  deeply  in  love  with  the  fair 
debutante  that  he  declared  his  passion,  which  the  young 
lady  was  pleased  to  reciprocate.  An  honest  and  ex- 
cellent man,  Favart  did  not  attempt  to  take  advantage 
of  their  respective  positions,1  but  offered  to  make  her  his 

1  A  document  found  in  the  Bastille  on  its  capture  in  July  1789, 
written  by  one  Meusnier,  an  inspector  of  police  who  was  employed  by 
Maurice  de  Saxe  in  his  persecution  of  the  Favarts,  and  published 
the  same  year,  under  the  title  of  Manuscrit  trouve  a  la  Bastille  (signe 
Meusmer\  concemant  deux  lettres-de-cachet  lachees  contre  Mile,  de  Chantilly 
et  M.  Favart  par  le  Marechal  de  Saxe,  asserts  that  for  some  time  Justine 
lived  with  Favart,  as  his  mistress,  in  a  house  in  the  Rue  de  Buci.  But  in 
the  opinion  of  Desnoiresterres,  the  best  informed  of  the  poet's  biographers, 
this  charge  is  sufficiently  controverted  by  the  following  letter  written  by 
Favart  to  his  Jitncee  :  "Take  care  of  your  health  ;  remember  that  mine 
is  involved  in  it.  You  will  take  more  care  of  yourself,  if  you  have  any 
regard  for  me,  who  love  you  more  than  life ;  though  do  not  take  offence, 
for  my  very  sentiments  are  your  eulogy.  Your  talents  seduce  me,  but 
your  virtue  binds  me.  If  your  thoughts  were  in  contradiction  to  your 
actions,  you  would  be  worthy  neither  of  my  esteem  nor  my  love.  .  .  . 
I  am  speaking  to  you  against  the  interests  of  my  heart ;  but  I,  at  the 
same  time,  prove  to  you  that  I  am  the  sincerest  and  the  best  of  your 
friends." — Favart,  Memoires  et  correspondence  lltteraire  (edit.  1808), 
i.  20.  Desnoiresterres,  Epicurlcns  et  JLettres,  p.  196  ft  teq. 


230      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

wife;  and,  on  December  12,  1745,  they  were  married  at 
the  Church  of  Saint-Pierre-aux-Bceufs,  a  little  church 
generally  patronised  by  persons  who  wished  to  keep 
their  marriages  secret  for  a  while,  in  the  presence  of 
only  the  necessary  witnesses. 

In  view  of  what  we  shall  presently  relate,  it  is 
important  to  note  that  M.  Duronceray,  Justine's  father, 
was  not  present  at  the  ceremony,  although  he  had  given 
the  required  consent  to  his  daughter's  marriage,  in 
writing. 

The  marriage  took  place  under  very  inauspicious 
circumstances.  The  vogue  that  Favart  by  his  operas 
and  Justine  by  her  singing  and  acting  had  obtained 
for  the  Opera-Comique  had  aroused  the  jealousy  of 
the  Theatre-Francais  and  the  Comedie-Italienne ;  and, 
in  the  autumn  of  1745,  they  solicited  and  obtained  its 
suppression.  The  severity  of  this  measure  was  some- 
what mitigated  by  the  permission  which  Favart  received 
to  open  a  theatre  at  the  Fair  of  Saint-Laurent,  whither 
he  transferred  his  company,  and  presented,  among  other 
pieces,  a  pantomime,  entitled  Les  Vendanges  de  Tempe, 
of  which  the  success  was  assured  by  the  charming  acting 
of  Justine.  This  privilege,  however,  was  only  accorded 
him  for  a  very  short  time,  with  the  object  of  allowing 
the  troupe  of  the  Opera-Comique  leisure  to  make 
other  arrangements,  and,  on  its  withdrawal,  Favart 
and  his  colleagues  found  themselves  in  a  very  em- 
barrassing situation ;  and  matters  must  have  gone 
hardly  with  them,  had  not  the  poet  had  the  good 
fortune  to  find  a  protector  as  powerful  as  he  was  un- 
expected. 

It  happened  that  some  little  time  before  the  suppres- 
sion of  the  Opera-Comique,  Favart  had  met  at  the  house 


JUSTINE   FAVART  231 

of  one  of  those  leaders  of  the  fashionable  world  whose 
whim  it  was  to  patronise  actors  and  men  of  letters, 
Maurice  de  Saxe,  now  become  the  greatest  soldier  of 
his  age,  Marechal  de  France ',  and  "  general-in-chief  of 
all  the  armies  of  the  King."  Maurice,  who  was  as 
enthusiastic  a  patron  of  the  drama  as  he  had  been  in 
the  days  of  poor  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  was  followed 
in  his  campaigns  by  a  troupe  of  actors,  which  gave 
performances  wherever  the  army  happened  to  be 
quartered,  sometimes  in  a  regular  theatre,  sometimes 
in  an  improvised  one ;  and  he  now  suggested  to  Favart 
that  he  should  organise  a  second  troupe  and  accompany 
him  to  Flanders  for  the  campaign  which  was  about 
to  open. 

The  offer  seemed  like  a  fortune  to  poor  Favart,  in 
the  state  of  poverty  and  uncertainty  to  which  he  was 
then  reduced ;  nevertheless,  he  hesitated  to  accept  it, 
pointing  out  that  the  formation  of  a  second  company 
might  be  regarded  by  the  troupe  already  in  existence 
as  an  encroachment  on  its  privileges,  and  that  its 
leader — one  Parmentier,  an  arrogant  and  unscrupulous 
person,  with  whom  Favart  was  by  no  means  anxious 
to  enter  into  competition — would  be  sure  to  throw 
obstacles  in  his  way.  The  Marshal,  however,  solved 
the  difficulty  by  promising  to  transfer  the  Parmentier 
troupe  to  the  division  of  the  army  commanded  by 
Marechal  Lowendal,  and  attach  Favart's  company  to 
his  own  person ;  and,  under  these  conditions,  the  poet 
gratefully  accepted  his  offer. 

Here  are  the  terms  in  which  the  Marshal  announced 
his  appointment  to  Favart,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
informed  him  of  what  was  expected  of  him  : — 

"The  favourable  report  that  has  been  made  to  me 


232      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

about  you,  Monsieur,  has  induced  me  to  choose  you,  in 
preference  to  all  others,  in  order  to  give  you  the  ex- 
clusive management  of  my  comedy  company.  I  am 
persuaded  that  you  will  use  every  endeavour  to  ensure 
its  success;  but  do  not  imagine  that  I  look  upon  it 
merely  as  an  object  of  amusement ;  it  enters  into  my 
political  views  and  into  the  plan  of  my  military  opera- 
tions. I  will  advise  you  what  you  will  have  to  do 
in  this  respect  when  occasion  arises,  and,  in  the  mean- 
while, I  count  upon  your  discretion  and  punctuality. 
You  are  from  this  moment  at  liberty  to  make  all  your 
arrangements  for  opening  your  theatre  at  Brussels,  in 
the  month  of  April  next." 

As  there  was  but  little  time  at  his  disposal,  Favart 
started  at  once  for  Brussels,  where  he  obtained  a  lease 
of  the  Grand  Theatre  in  the  Rue  de  la  Monnaie. 
Then  he  returned  to  Paris,  and,  having  selected  his 
company,  which  comprised  all  the  best  artistes  of  the 
deceased  Opera-Comique,  he  and  Justine  set  out  for 
Flanders. 

Two  days  after  their  arrival  in  Brussels,  Maurice 
de  Saxe  made  his  entry  into  the  city.  The  excite- 
ment was  intense ;  an  enormous  crowd  lined  the  streets 
through  which  the  procession  was  to  pass ;  while  the 
windows,  and  even  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  were  thronged 
with  spectators  eager  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  famous 
general.  The  weather,  however,  was  unfavourable  for 
a  public  ceremony ;  a  storm  was  brewing,  and,  as  the 
Marshal  reached  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  where  all  the  fair 
ladies  of  Brussels  had  congregated  to  receive  him,  a 
terrific  peal  of  thunder  was  heard.  Many  persons  no 
doubt  saw  in  this  an  omen  of  evil  for  the  hitherto 
all-conquering  warrior ;  but  Favart  chose  to  regard 


JUSTINE   FAVART  233 

it  far  differently,  and  forthwith  improvised  the  following 
verses : — 

"  Est-ce  li  notre  g£ne>al 

Que  ramene  Bellone  ? 
— Eh  !  oui,  c'est  ce  grand  mardchal, 

C'est  lui-meme  en  personne. 
— Non  ;  je  le  vois  a  ses  regards, 

C'est  le  Dieu  de  la  guerre, 
Et  Jupiter  annonce  Mars 

Par  un  coup  de  tonnerre." 

Copies  of  these  verses  were  printed  and  circulated  every- 
where ;  and  the  Marshal,  having  had  his  attention  drawn 
to  them,  as  he  was  sitting  down  to  dinner  with  his  general 
officers,  sent  for  the  writer  and  complimented  him  upon 
them.  One  of  the  officers  present,  who  did  not  share 
his  chiefs  passion  for  the  theatre,  asked  Favart  of  what 
use  a  poet  like  himself  could  be  to  the  army.  "  To 
celebrate  the  exploits  of  our  warriors  and  satirise  the 
enemy,"  was  the  prompt  reply,  and  the  questioner 
proceeded  no  further. 

During  the  afternoon,  apparently  at  the  request  of 
some  of  the  ladies  of  the  city,  the  Marshal  gave  orders 
that  part  of  the  troops  should  be  paraded  in  front  of 
the  Hotel  de  Ville  and  put  through  various  evolutions. 
One  of  the  corps  selected  was  a  contingent  of  Jacobite 
Highlanders,  "  who,  in  changing  their  country,  had  not 
thought  it  necessary  to  change  their  costume."  The 
scantiness  of  the  gallant  Scotsmen's  attire,  Favart  tells 
us,  greatly  shocked  the  Brussels  ladies,  to  the  intense 
amusement  of  the  Marshal  and  his  officers.  In  the  even- 
ing, Favart's  company  gave  their  first  performance,  which 
was  so  well  received  as  to  remove  all  doubt  as  to  the 
success  of  their  enterprise. 


234      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Although  Brussels  was  the  centre  of  the  Marshal's 
operations,  and  Favart  had  secured  a  lease  of  the  Grand 
Theatre,  the  terms  of  his  engagement  obliged  him  to 
follow  the  army  into  the  field,  a  necessity  which  involved 
him  and  his  company  in  many  hardships  and  privations. 
Once  Favart  passed  three  days  and  three  nights  without 
sleep,  except  such  as  he  could  obtain  leaning  against  a 
tree,  with  his  feet  in  water.  Often  provisions  ran  short ; 
bread  sold  at  fifteen  sous  the  pound,  and  sometimes  the 
unfortunate  actors  were  nearly  starving.  Nor  were 
dangers  of  an  even  more  alarming  kind  wanting.  The 
country  swarmed  with  the  irregular  cavalry  of  the 
enemy,  who  intercepted  convoys,  cut  off  stragglers, 
and  burned  and  pillaged  to  within  musket-shot  of  the 
French  lines.  Neither  age  nor  sex  was  sacred  to  these 
Croats  and  Pandours.  A  luckless  troupe  of  actors 
on  their  way  from  Brussels  to  Cologne,  to  fulfil  an 
engagement  at  the  Elector's  Court,  was  surprised  by  a 
body  of  these  marauders  and  robbed  of  everything  they 
possessed,  with  the  exception  of  their  theatrical  cos- 
tumes, in  which  they  were  compelled  to  trudge  to 
Louvain,  their  woe-begone  countenances  contrasting 
oddly  with  the  gay  habiliments  of  Arlequin,  Scaramouche, 
and  the  rest.  Maurice  de  Saxe  had  granted  Favart's 
company  an  escort  of  thirty  men  of  the  Regiment  de 
Septimanie  ;  but  this  force  was  insufficient  to  secure  them 
from  molestation.  One  day,  while  passing  through  some 
wooded  country  between  Louvain  and  Indiogne,  they 
were  attacked  by  a  body  of  hussars,  who  outnumbered 
their  little  escort  by  as  many  as  four  to  one.  A  san- 
guinary hand-to-hand  conflict  ensued,  for  the  marauders 
were  as  brave  as  they  were  ruthless,  while  their  excesses 
had  exasperated  the  French  to  the  last  degree.  Twice 


JUSTINE   FAVART  235 

the  hussars  were  beaten  back,  and,  at  length,  reinforce- 
ments arriving  for  the  defenders,  they  drew  off",  leaving, 
however,  only  six  of  the  gallant  escort  alive,  the  least 
wounded  of  whom  had  received  four  sabre  cuts.  Favart, 
in  a  letter  to  his  mother  giving  an  account  of  this 
adventure,  speaks  with  admiration  of  the  conduct  of 
this  soldier  :  "  Never  did  I  see  a  man  of  such  courage. 
He  was  covered  with  blood,  which  he  was  losing  in 
abundance,  and  yet  would  not  permit  his  comrades  to 
give  a  thought  to  him  until  the  combat  was  over. 
Then,  in  order  to  speak,  he  was  obliged  to  hold  up 
his  nose  and  a  portion  of  his  cheek,  which  had  been 
separated  from  the  rest  of  his  countenance  by  a  sabre 
cut,  and  had  fallen  down  over  his  mouth !  " 

To  compensate  the  Favarts  for  the  hardships  and 
perils  they  were  compelled  to  undergo,  Maurice  de 
Saxe  treated  them  with  the  greatest  kindness ;  in  fact, 
presents  were  simply  showered  upon  them.  On  one 
occasion,  we  find  him  sending  them  three  fine  horses 
to  draw  their  coach  ;  on  another,  "  a  camp-bed  of  red 
satin "  ;  on  a  third,  twenty-five  bottles  of  Hungarian 
wine.  Moreover,  he  gave  Favart  to  understand  that 
he  might  draw  upon  him  freely  in  case  of  necessity, 
and  protected  him  against  the  attacks  of  the  jealous 
Parmentier,  the  leader  of  the  other  troupe  of  actors,  who, 
not  without  some  cause,  regarded  Favart  as  a  rival,  and 
did  all  in  his  power  to  annoy  and  discredit  him.  The 
simple-minded  poet,  who  had  as  yet  no  suspicion  as  to 
the  real  object  of  the  Marshal's  attentions,  seems  to  have 
been  under  the  impression  that  they  were  intended  as 
tributes  to  his  literary  and  dramatic  talents,  and,  in  his 
letters  to  his  mother,  waxes  quite  enthusiastic  over  his 
patron's  kindness  and  generosity. 


236      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

The  Marshal,  in  engaging  Favart's  services,  had  told 
him  that  he  regarded  the  troupe  which  followed  his 
army  as  something  more  than  a  means  of  amusement, 
and  that  it  "  entered  into  the  plan  of  his  military  opera- 
tions." M.  Leon  Gozlan  makes  merry  over  this  letter, 
which,  he  thinks,  was  written  merely  to  flatter  the  poet's 
vanity,  and  lure  him  and  his  wife  to  Flanders  ; l  but  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  Maurice  did  attach  considerable 
importance  to  the  provision  of  such  entertainments  for 
those  under  his  command.  In  the  first  place,  they 
served  to  occupy  not  a  little  of  the  time  which  would 
otherwise  be  employed  in  more  doubtful  pleasures,  par- 
ticularly play,  which,  in  spite  of  stringent  prohibitions, 
was  very  prevalent  in  the  army  among  all  ranks,  and 
had  a  most  disastrous  effect  on  the  morale  of  the  troops, 
causing  the  officers  to  gamble  away  their  pay  and  the 
men  their  rations,  and  leading  to  frequent  quarrels  and 
much  ill-feeling.  In  the  second  place,  the  Marshal's 
knowledge  of  the  French  character  had  taught  him  that 
a  happy  couplet  de  circonstance  sung  to  a  lively  air  often 
had  more  effect  upon  the  soldiers  than  the  most  elo- 
quent of  harangues.  An  anecdote  celebrated  in  the 
history  of  this  campaign  will  show  how  accurately  the 
great  commander  had  gauged  the  spirit  of  his  troops. 

In  the  autumn  of  1746,  the  French,  after  capturing 
Namur,  had  occupied  Tongres,  in  the  market-place  of 
which  Favart  had  constructed  a  theatre.  The  allied 
army,  under  Prince  Charles  of  Lorraine,  was  close  at 
hand,  and  a  decisive  engagement  was  daily  expected ;  but 
this  did  not  prevent  the  improvised  playhouse  from 
being  crowded  every  evening.  Early  in  the  afternoon 
of  October  9,  the  Marshal  sent  for  Favart  to  come  to 

1  Madame  Favart  et  U  Marechal  de  Saxe. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  237 

his  quarters,  and,  on  his  arrival,  dismissed  the  officers 
who  were  with  him,  and,  turning  to  the  poet,  said : 
"  To-morrow  I  shall  give  battle.  As  yet  I  have  issued 
no  orders  to  that  effect.  Announce  it  this  evening 
at  the  conclusion  of  the  performance,  in  couplets  suit- 
able to  the  occasion.  Until  that  moment  let  nothing 
transpire." 

Favart  obeyed,  and  composed  the  following  verses, 
which  were  sung  by  a  young  and  pretty  actress  between 
the  two  pieces  of  which  the  performance  consisted  : — 

"  Nous  avons  rempli  notre  tache, 
Demain  nous  donnerons  relache  ; 
Guerriers,  Mars  va  guider  vos  pas  ; 
Que  votre  ardeur  se  renouvelle  : 
A  des  intr£pides  soldats 
La  Victoire  est  toujours  fiddle. 

"  Demain  bataille,  jour  de  gloire  ; 
Que  dans  les  fastes  de  1'histoire 
Triomphe  encore  le  nom  francais 
Digne  d'eternelle  me'moire  ! 
Revenez  apres  vos  succes, 
Jouir  des  fruits  de  la  victoire." 

These  verses  caused  the  most  unbounded  astonish- 
ment. It  was  at  first  supposed  that  the  poet  had  lost 
his  head ;  a  battle  announced  between  two  comic  operas, 
the  order  of  the  day  to  the  air  of  a  popular  song,  seemed 
too  absurd !  Officers  hastened  to  the  Marshal's  box 
to  inquire  if  Favart  had  had  any  authority  for  his 
announcement ;  but  Maurice  smilingly  replied  that  he 
had  acted  under  his  orders.  Thereupon  the  astonish- 
ment changed  to  enthusiasm,  and  the  theatre  resounded 
with  applause.  "  On  all  sides,"  writes  Favart,  "  but 
two  words  were  heard  :  '  Demain,  bataille !  demain, 


238      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

bataille  ! '  The  intoxication  passed  rapidly  from  officers 
to  men,  and  was  so  intense  that  one  could  not  fail  to 
see  therein  a  presage  of  victory."  * 

The  battle  so  eagerly  anticipated  did  not  take  place 
next  day,  but  on  October  n,  when  Maurice  attacked 
the  allies  at  Roucoux,  a  little  to  the  north  of  Liege, 
and  completely  defeated  them,  though  the  English,  who, 
as  usual,  bore  the  brunt  of  the  engagement,  fought 
right  valiantly,  and  the  victory  was  in  consequence  very 
dearly  purchased. 

In  celebration  of  his  compatriots'  triumph,  Favart, 
on  the  morrow  of  the  battle,  hurriedly  composed  two 
or  three  scenes  full  of  happy  allusions  to  the  events  of 
the  preceding  day.  These  were  performed  the  same 
night,  and  were,  of  course,  received  with  enthusiasm. 
He  did  not  confine  himself,  he  tells  us,  to  chanting 
the  praises  of  the  victors,  but  paid  a  generous  tribute 
to  the  courage  of  the  vanquished,  one  of  his  couplets 
concluding  thus : — 

"  Anglais  chdris  de  la  victoire 

Vous  ne  c£dez  qu'aux  seuls  Francais  ; 
Vous  n'en  avez  pas  moins  de  gloire." 

The  victory  of  Roucoux  concluded  the  campaign 
of  that  year,  and  Favart  and  his  company  returned  to 
Brussels,  heartily  thankful  to  be  quit,  for  a  time,  of 
war's  alarms.  "  I  prefer,"  he  wrote  to  his  mother, 
"  moderate  profits  with  safety  to  a  large  fortune  pur- 
chased by  continual  fear  and  danger."  However,  he 
had  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied  with  his  winter  season 
in  the  Belgian  capital,  which  was  indeed  successful 
beyond  his  most  sanguine  anticipations,  the  profits  at 

1  Memoires  et  Correspondance  (edit.  1808),  i.  25. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  239 

each  performance  averaging  as  much  as  six  hundred 
livres.  To  add  to  his  good  fortune,  he  was  able  to  rid 
himself  of  his  rival  Parmentier,  who,  finding  that  the 
Marshal  had  taken  Favart  definitely  under  his  protection, 
and  that  all  attempts  to  oust  him  were  likely  to  prove 
abortive,  retired  in  disgust,  leaving  the  poet  master  of 
the  field.  The  future  now  presented  itself  to  Favart 
in  the  most  smiling  colours  ;  but  alas  !  the  poor  man 
was  living  all  the  while  in  a  fool's  paradise,  from  which 
he  was  soon  destined  to  be  very  rudely  ejected. 

Though  now  in  his  fiftieth  year,  Maurice  de  Saxe 
was  still  as  susceptible  to  feminine  charms  as  in  the  days 
when  he  had  wrought  such  havoc  among  the  ladies  of 
Lithuania  and  Courland.  If  the  record  of  his  gallantries 
did  not  equal  those  of  his  royal  father,  it  was  probably 
because  his  military  occupations  absorbed  so  large  a 
portion  of  his  time.  His  tastes,  particularly  where  the 
theatre  was  concerned,  were  catholic.  "  Whom  did  he 
not  love  ?  To  what  actress  or  opera-girl's  skirts  was 
he  not  attached  ?  All  the  actresses  of  his  campaigns  in 
Flanders  succeeded  one  another  in  that  inflammable  heart 
and  disputed  there  an  ephemeral  reign  :  Miles.  Dari- 
mattes,  Fleury,  Amand,  Verrieres,1  Bline,  Auguste,  and 
Beaumenard.  For  the  Saxon  hero,  the  troupe  which  he 
caused  to  follow  him  was  a  seraglio,  in  which  the  last 
comers  were  the  most  honoured."  2 

Upon  the  susceptible  Marshal  it  was  only  to  be 
expected  that  the  fresh  beauty  and  grace  of  Justine 
should  make  a  favourable  impression,  nor  was  his  admira- 
tion for  the  young  lady  by  any  means  diminished  by 

1  Marie  Rinteau,  the  great-grandmother  of  George  Sand. 

2  Deinoiresterres,  fipicuriens  et  Lettres,  p.  215. 


24o      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

the  fact  that — to  borrow  his  own  curious  expression — 
she  was  "  possessed  by  the  demon  of  conjugal  love," l 
and,  therefore,  unlikely  to  afford  him  an  easy  conquest. 
M.  L6on  Gozlan  asserts  that  Justine  had  attracted 
Maurice's  notice  in  Paris,  and  that  his  invitation  to 
Favart  to  accompany  him  to  Flanders  was  nothing  but 
a  pretext  for  getting  the  poet's  wife  into  his  power.  Of 
this  there  is  some  doubt ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  there 
can  be  no  question  that,  before  the  end  of  the  year  1746, 
Maurice  had  fallen  desperately  in  love  with  the  young 
actress,  and  had  determined  to  make  her,  bon  grt,  mal 
grd,  his  mistress. 

"  Mile,  de  Chantilly,"  he  writes,  "  I  take  leave  of 
you  ;  you  are  an  enchantress  more  dangerous  than  the 
late  Madame  Armide.  Whether  as  Pierrot,  whether 
under  the  guise  of  Love,  or  even  as  a  simple  shepherdess, 
you  are  so  excellent  that  you  enchant  us  all.  I  have 
seen  myself  on  the  point  of  succumbing — I,  whose  fatal 
art  affrights  the  world.  What  a  triumph  for  you,  had 
you  been  able  to  make  me  submit  to  your  laws  !  I 
thank  you  for  not  having  used  all  your  powers  ;  you 
might  well  pass  for  a  young  sorceress,  with  your 
shepherd's  crook,  which  is  nothing  else  than  the  magic 

1  "  .  .  .  Je  vous  dires  en  outre  que  je  suis  amoureu  depuis  trois  ans 
d'une  petite  Gelan  (?)  qui  me  joue  des  mauves  tour  et  qui  ma  penses  faire 
tourner  la  servelle  ;  je  vous  en  ay  e*crit  quelque  chosse  lanee  passe,  elle  ait 
posscde  du  demon  de  I 'amour  conjugal.  .  .  .  J'ay  etes  tente  deux  ou  trois 
foy  de  la  noier." — Letter  of  Maurice  de  Saxe  to  his  sister,  the  Princess 
von  Holstein,  March  10,  1747.  We  hesitate  to  produce  the  remainder 
of  this  letter,  of  which,  as  Desnoiresterres  very  justly  remarks,  the  ortho- 
graphy is  the  least  enormity,  even  in  the  original ;  but  the  curious  reader 
will  find  it  in  Les  Lettres  du  Marecbal  de  Saxe  a  la  Princesse  de  Holstein 
(p.  20),  published  by  the  Societe  des  Bibliophiles  Francais  in  1831. 
A  copy,  presented  by  T.  J.  Dibdin  to  the  Hon.  Thomas  Grenville,  is  in 
the  possession  of  the  British  Museum. 


Pour  charmer  la  raiiou.la  oaUe  la  clioifu', 

1.  i  .mlx'tni  no  ics  norojiiciis  ; 

O 
Etcwmrae  aTitAhtJefleurNjit  naitroies  talons. 

Ponr  en  oilrir  tin  BonqtioL  a  fh.ilie 

•''-•»"     '.'• — -^'      <<^  -•  --•  ^ 

JUSTINE  FAVART 

From  an  engraving  by  J.  J.  FLIPART,  after  the  drawing  by  CHARLES  NICOLAS 
COCHIN  fils 


JUSTINE   FAVART  241 

wand  with  which  that  poor  prince  of  the  French,  whom, 
I  fancy,  they  called  Renaud,  was  struck.  Already  I 
have  seen  myself  surrounded  with  flowers  and  fleurettes, 
fatal  equipment  for  all  the  favourites  of  Mars.  I 
shudder  at  it ;  and  what  would  the  King  of  France  and 

7  O 

Navarre  have  said  if,  in  place  of  the  torch  of  his  venge- 
ance, he  had  found  me  with  a  garland  in  my  hand  ?  In 
spite  of  the  danger  to  which  you  have  exposed  me,  I 
have  not  the  heart  to  blame  you  for  my  weakness  ;  it 
is  a  charming  one  !  But  it  is  only  by  flying  from  it 
that  one  is  able  to  escape  a  peril  so  great. 

"  Adieu,  divinite"  du  parterre  ador^e  ; 

Faites  le  bien  d'un  seul  et  les  de"sirs  de  tous ; 
Et  puissent  vos  amours  6galer  la  dur6e 

De  la  tendre  amitie  que  mon  coeur  a  pour  vous  ! 

"  Pardon,  Mademoiselle,  to  the  remains  of  intoxica- 
tion this  rhymed  prose  to  which  your  talents  inspire  me ; l 
the  effects  of  the  liquor  of  which  I  have  drunk  endures, 
they  say,  often  longer  than  one  thinks." 

From  this  letter,  which  is  undated,  but  was  no  doubt 

1  This  is  really  very  amusing.  These  pretty  verses  had  been  addressed, 
many  years  before,  by  Voltaire,  to  Adrienne  Lecouvreur  ;  and  the  Marshal 
not  only  coolly  appropriates  them,  but  adds  insult  to  injury  by  calling 
them  "  rhymed  prose  "!  One  can  imagine  the  indignation  of  the  poet 
had  this  letter,  by  any  chance,  fallen  into  his  hands.  This  was  not  the 
first  time,  however,  that  Voltaire's  verses  had  been  purloined  by  an  un- 
scrupulous lover.  The  charming  lines,  in  English,  which  he  addressed  to 
Lady  Hervey,  beginning — 

"  Hervey,  would  you  know  the  passion 
You  have  kindled  in  my  breast," 

were  subsequently  transcribed  by  the  lover  of  a  Mrs.  Harley,  the  wife  of 
a  London  merchant,  and  formed  part  of  the  evidence  on  which  her  hus- 
band based  his  claim  for  a  divorce. 

Q 


242      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

written  in  the  late  autumn  of  1746,  as  Maurice  was  on 
the  point  of  setting  out  for  Paris,  where  he  spent  the 
following  winter,  it  would  appear  that  the  Marshal  had 
already  commenced  the  siege  of  the  lady's  heart. 
Whether  his  operations  were  crowned  with  success  at 
this  period  is  a  point  upon  which  there  is  a  considerable 
difference  of  opinion.  Dumolard,  the  editor  of  Favart's 
Mtmoires  et  Correspondancey  published  in  1808,  makes  of 
Justine  a  perfect  paragon  of  virtue,  whose  resistance  the 
Marshal  did  not  succeed  in  overcoming  for  some  years, 
and  then  only  under  pressure  of  the  most  cruel  perse- 
cution. M.  Saint-Rene  Taillandier,  one  of  the  most 
conscientious  of  Maurice's  biographers,  adopts  the  same 
view,  and  is  very  severe  upon  his  hero's  conduct  in  this 
matter ;  while  he  shows  us  Justine  "  despising  alike 
threats  and  promises,  the  victim  of  disgraceful  intrigues, 
persecuted,  thrown  into  the  depths  of  a  dungeon,  guard- 
ing pure  and  intact  the  dignity  of  her  art,  her  honour, 
and  her  name  :  a  rare  lesson  for  an  actress  to  give  to 
a  corrupt  society."  Sainte-Beuve  l  and  Desnoiresterres, 
however,  take  a  different  view,  and,  much  as  we  should 
wish  to  believe  in  the  lady's  innocence,  we  are  compelled 
to  admit  that  the  evidence  which  they  adduce  leaves 
no  room  for  doubt  upon  the  matter.  The  former 
points  to  the  report  of  the  police-inspector,  Meusnier, 
who  declares  that  at  Brussels  Justine  had  ousted  all  the 
other  enchantresses  of  the  Marshal,  and  obtained  so  great 
an  influence  over  her  lover  that  no  one  could  obtain  any 
favour  from  him,  except  through  her  good  offices,2  and 
to  Maurice's  letter  to  the  Princess  of  Holstein  ;  while 
the  latter  cites  a  letter  of  Justine  to  the  Marshal,  written 

1  Nou-ueaux  Lundis  (1869),  xi.  106-108. 
*  Manuscrit  trouve  a  la  Bastille  (1789),  p.  5. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  243 

during  her  confinement  in  the  Ursuline  convent  at  Les 
Grands  Andelys,  in  1749,  and  which,  in  his  opinion, 
amounts  to  a  confession  of  her  fault.1 

But  if  Justine  succumbed,  as  so  many  had  succumbed 
before  her,  to  this  impetuous  wooer,  her  fall  would 
appear  to  have  been  due  to  a  very  different  cause  from 
that  of  any  of  her  predecessors  in  the  Marshal's  affections. 
It  is  certain  that  her  heart  was  not  concerned  in  the 
matter,  while  it  is  very  improbable  that  she  was  influenced 
by  a  desire  to  participate  in  the  favours  which  Maurice 
was  in  the  habit  of  heaping  upon  his  enchantresses, 
though  she  subsequently  admitted  to  having  "  availed 
herself  of  his  benefits  and  assistance,"  doubtless  being 
of  opinion  that,  since  the  mischief  was  done,  she  was 
justified  in  making  the  best  of  the  situation.  The  poor 
young  woman,  indeed,  appears  to  have  regarded  the 
Marshal  with  feelings  of  positive  aversion,  and  there  can 
be  little  doubt,  in  view  of  what  follows,  that  she  was 
intimidated  into  surrender  through  fear  of  the  conse- 
quences to  herself  and  her  husband  of  thwarting  the  man 
in  whose  power  they  had  placed  themselves  ;  a  fear  which, 
as  we  shall  presently  see,  was  but  too  well  justified. 

Under  these  circumstances,  it  is  scarcely  surprising 
that  the  liaison  should  have  been  a  brief  one.  Tortured 
by  remorse,  loving  her  unsuspecting  husband  the  more 

1  We  might  add  the  testimony  of  Marmontel,  who,  from  his  very 
intimate  relations  with  two  prominent  members  of  Maurice's  seraglio, 
Miles.  Navarre  and  de  Verri£res,  was  without  doubt  well  informed  in 
regard  to  the  Marshal's  love-affairs.  "  He  (Maurice  de  Saxe)  always 
kept  an  opera  comique  in  his  camp.  Two  performers  belonging  to  this 
theatre,  called  Chantilly  and  Beaumenard,  were  his  favourite  mistresses  ; 
and  he  declared  that  their  rivalry  and  caprices  plagued  him  more  than  the 
Queen  of  Hungary's  Hussars.  I  have  read  these  words  in  one  of  his 
letters.  For  them  it  was  that  he  neglected  Mile.  Navarre." 


244      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

now  that  she  knew  herself  unworthy  of  his  affection 
and  confidence,  still  possessed,  in  fact,  by  "  the  demon 
of  conjugal  love,"  in  spite  of  all  Maurice's  efforts  to 
exorcise  him,  Justine  only  waited  for  a  favourable  oppor- 
tunity to  break  her  chains.  Maurice's  absence  in  Paris 
during  the  winter  of  1746-1747  apparently  gave  her 
the  necessary  courage,  and,  on  his  return  to  Flanders, 
she  refused,  to  his  intense  indignation,  to  resume  her 
relations  with  him,  and  persisted  in  her  resolution,  not- 
withstanding all  his  threats  and  entreaties.  Such  was 
the  position  of  affairs  when  hostilities  were  renewed  in 
the  spring,  and  the  Favarts  and  their  troupe  quitted 
Brussels  to  join  the  army. 

Favart's  letters  to  his  mother  contain  some  interesting 
details  of  that  campaign.  He  was  present  at  the  taking 
of  the  Fort  Saint-Philippe,  and  speaks  with  righteous  indig- 
nation of  the  barbarous  execution  of  the  garrison,  which 
he  stigmatises  as  "  a  disgrace  to  humanity."  He  also  sends 
her  a  lively  account  of  the  battle  of  Lawfeld  (July  2)  : — 

"Mv  DEAR  MOTHER, — I  am  in  good  health.  The 
battle  is  won ;  the  prediction  I  made  to  you  has  been 
verified.  The  action  took  place  between  Maestricht, 
Tongres,  and  Saint-Tron.  The  left  of  the  enemy's 
army,  composed  of  English,  Hanoverians,  and  Hessians, 
was  attacked  in  the  morning ;  they  defended  themselves 
all  day  and  fought  desperately ;  but  the  issue  is  no 
longer  in  doubt.  The  enemy's  right  did  not  await  our 
fire,  but  sought  safety  in  flight ;  the  Dutch  and  Austrians 
were  routed  without  having  fired  a  shot.  The  rest  of 
the  English,  to  the  number  of  ten  thousand,  after 
defending  themselves  for  three  hours  in  a  village  into 
which  they  had  been  driven,  endeavoured  to  escape  across 


JUSTINE   FAVART  245 

the  marshes ;  but,  meeting  Clermont's  army,  which  they 
had  not  expected,  were  annihilated. 

"A  simple  carabinier  took  the  English  general, 
Ligonier,  prisoner;  he  is  to  them  what  Marechal  de 
Saxe  is  to  us,  if  such  a  comparison  were  possible.  The 
soldier  conducted  him  to  the  King,  together  with  a 
standard ;  a  moment  later,  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
was  himself  taken.1  I  have  related  all  this  very  badly, 
because  I  am  writing  to  you  in  haste ;  it  is  the  warmth  of 
my  French  blood  which  guides  my  pen.  Victory  !  great 
victory !  everything  is  summed  up  in  these  last  words. 
I  am  one  of  the  first  to  write.  The  action  still  continues 
to  our  advantage,  we  have  finished  conquering,  I  say  more, 
we  have  finished  destroying.  Pardon  me  if  I  say  we ; 
through  frequenting  the  society  of  heroes,  I  adopt  their 
language.  Show  my  letter  to  all  our  friends ;  they  have 
French  hearts,  and  this  success  will  interest  them." 2 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  battle  of  Lawfeld,  the  re- 
pentant Justine  would  appear  to  have  been  left  in  com- 
parative peace  by  her  persecutor,  military  occupations 
presumably  allowing  Maurice  but  scant  leisure  for  love- 
making.  But,  the  allies  disposed  of,  for  the  time  being,  the 
Marshal  turned  his  attention  to  other  matters,  and  showed 
himself  so  determined  to  recover  his  prey,  that  Justine 
saw  that  her  only  way  of  escape  was  to  confess  all  to 
her  still  unsuspecting  husband,  implore  his  forgiveness, 
and  demand  his  protection.  The  worthy  Favart,  though 
much  shocked  at  such  a  revelation,  had  the  good  sense 
to  perceive  that  his  young  wife  had  been  the  victim  of 
circumstances,  and  that  he  himself  was  greatly  to  blame 

1  This  was,  of  course,  incorrect. 

2  Farart,  Mcmoires  ct  Correspondance  (edit.  1808),  i.  30. 


246      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

for  not  having  foreseen  the  danger  which  threatened  her, 
and  interfered  to  prevent  it.  He  comforted  her  by  an 
assurance  of  his  full  forgiveness,  but  pointed  out  that 
it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  escape  the  Marshal's 
unwelcome  attentions  so  long  as  she  remained  with  the 
army,  and  that  her  best  course  was  to  fly  to  Brussels 
and  throw  herself  upon  the  protection  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Chevreuse,  who  had  shown  them  much  kindness 
during  the  preceding  winter.  Justine  readily  agreed  to 
his  proposal,  and,  that  same  night,  without  allowing 
any  of  their  colleagues  to  suspect  their  intention,  they 
set  out  for  Brussels,  where  Favart  placed  his  wife  in 
safety  with  some  of  his  friends,  and  then  returned  to 
the  army  to  face  the  spiteful  comments  of  his  com- 
panions and  the  fury  of  the  Marshal.  A  day  or  two 
after  his  arrival,  he  writes  to  the  fugitive  at  Brussels : — 

"  I  have  arrived  in  good  health,  my  dear  little  buffoon  ; 
your  own  occasions  me  much  uneasiness.  Send  me  the 
surgeon's  certificate,  that  I  may  show  it  to  the  Marshal. 
The  gossip  of  the  troupe  has  caused  a  report  to  be 
circulated  that  your  illness  is  only  an  awkwardly  devised 
piece  of  trickery  to  conceal  your  fears  and  my  jealousy. 
I  replied  that  there  was  no  cause  for  jealousy,  and  that 
to  suspect  you  was  to  insult  you.  M.  de  la  Grolet l  is  to 
be  consulted  as  to  whether  you  are  in  a  fit  state  to  rejoin 
the  army,  and  a  threat  has  been  conveyed  to  me  that  you 
shall  be  brought  here  forcibly  by  grenadiers,  and  that  I 
shall  be  punished  for  having  invented  the  story  of  your 
illness.  For  myself,  I  care  little  for  their  threats ;  but 
I  cannot  forgive  myself  for  having  brought  you  to  a 
country  where  you  are  exposed  to  such  tyranny.  We 
1  A  military  surgeon  at  Brussels. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  247 

are  very  uncomfortable  here;  I  have  not  yet  succeeded 
in  finding  a  lodging,  and,  since  leaving  you,  have  slept 
on  straw  under  the  stars.  If  any  attempt  be  made  to 
send  you  back,  implore  assistance  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Chevreuse ;  she  has  too  keen  a  sense  of  justice  to  refuse 
you  her  protection  in  a  matter  of  such  importance,  and 
the  kindness  with  which  she  has  honoured  us  is  a  sure 
proof  of  that.  She  can  tell  M.  de  la  Grolet  that  your 
health  does  not  permit  of  your  undertaking  so  trying 
a  journey.  Against  such  testimony  nothing  can  prevail. 
Finally,  my  dearest,  although  your  presence  is  necessary 
here  for  the  sake  of  the  performances,  and  I  am  burning 
with  impatience  to  see  you  once  more,  your  health,  more 
precious  than  all  our  other  interests,  more  dear  to  me 
than  life  itself,  must  be  preferred  to  everything.  Send 
news  of  yourself  as  soon  as  possible  to  your  affectionate 
husband." 

As  will  be  gathered  from  the  aforegoing  letter, 
Justine's  flight  had  been  very  badly  received  by  the 
commander  of  the  army.  Grimm  relates  the  following 
anecdote,  which  would  seem  hardly  credible,  did  we  not 
know  Maurice  to  be  capable  of  any  extravagance  when 
his  passions  were  thwarted  : — 

"The  night  of  their  escape  was  apparently  very 
stormy,  since  the  bridges  of  communication  between  the 
Marshal's  army  and  Lowendal's  corps,  which  was  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river,  were  carried  away,  and  it  was  feared 
that  the  enemy  might  take  advantage  of  the  circumstance 
to  fall  upon  this  corps  and  crush  it.  M.  Dumesnil,  who 
was  called  at  that  time  '  the  handsome  Dumesnil,' l  came 
to  the  Marshal's  quarters  early  in  the  morning,  and  found 
1  The  Marquis  Dumesnil,  afterwards  Lieutenant-General  of  Dauphine. 


24  8      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

him  seated  on  his  bed,  his  hair  dishevelled,  and  a  prey  to 
the  most  bitter  grief.  Dumesnil  attempted  to  console  him. 
'  The  misfortune  is  undoubtedly  very  great/  said  he,  '  but 
it  may  be  repaired.*  *  Ah,  my  friend  ! '  replied  the  Marshal, 

*  there  is  no  remedy  ;   I   am  undone  ! '     Dumensil  con- 
tinued his  efforts  to  reanimate  his  courage  and  to  reassure 
him   in   regard  to   the   accident   of  the   previous   night. 

*  It  will  not,  perhaps,  have  the  results  that  you  fear,'  said 
he.     But  the  Marshal  continued  a  prey  to  despair,  and 
to  regard  himself  as  a  man  at  the  end  of  his  resources. 
At  length,  after  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  passed 
in   this  way,  he  perceived   that  all  that  Dumesnil  had 
said  referred  only  to  the  broken  bridges,  upon  which  he 
exclaimed  :  '  What !  who  could  have  supposed  that  you 
were  talking   only  of  those  broken   bridges  ?     That  is 
an  inconvenience  which  may  be  repaired  in  three  hours. 
But  the  Chantilly  has  been  taken  from  me  ! '  " 1 

Furious  though  he  was  at  the  escape  of  his  prey, 
Maurice,  much  to  poor  Favart's  relief,  took  no  steps  to 
execute  the  threats  which  he  had  uttered  in  the  heat  of 
passion,  and  the  performances  of  the  troupe  went  on  as 
before,  save  for  the  absence  of  Justine,  who  continued 
her  flight  to  Paris,  where  she  gave  birth  to  a  son.  But 
Maurice  was  not  the  man  to  calmly  accept  defeat,  in 
love  any  more  than  in  war,  and  no  sooner  was  peace 
signed,  in  the  autumn  of  the  following  year,  and  he 
found  himself  at  leisure  to  attend  to  his  private  affairs, 
than  he  embarked  upon  a  determined  persecution  of 
the  luckless  pair  who  had  dared  to  thwart  him — a  per- 
secution which  was  the  more  difficult  for  them  to  escape, 
since,  for  a  long  time,  they  seem  to  have  entertained  not 
the  slightest  suspicion  as  to  its  real  promoter. 

1   Correspondance  litteraire,  vii.  464,  cited  by  Desnoiresterres. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  249 

Favart  was  the  first  to  feel  the  weight  of  the  Mar- 
shal's vengeance.  The  rent  of  the  Grand  Theatre  at 
Brussels,  which  he  had  leased  since  the  spring  of  1745, 
had  been  fixed  at  five  hundred  ducats  per  annum,  and 
this  sum  had  been  regularly  paid,  so  long  as  Brabant 
remained  in  possession  of  the  French  troops.  When, 
however,  by  the  terms  of  the  Peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle, 
the  conquered  territory  was  returned  to  Austria,  Favart 
found  himself  in  a  most  unpleasant  situation ;  for  the 
proprietors  of  the  theatre,  two  ladies  of  the  name  of 
Myesses,  without  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  enter  a 
defence,  obtained  from  the  re-established  Courts  an  order 
for  his  arrest  and  the  sequestration  of  his  theatrical  stock, 
on  the  ground  that  he  owed  them  a  further  sum  of  26,000 
francs.  To  avoid  being  thrown  into  prison,  Favart  was 
compelled  to  escape  across  the  frontier  ;  but  so  little  did 
he  suspect  the  share  that  the  Marshal  had  in  the  misfor- 
tunes that  had  come  upon  him,  that  he  actually  wrote  to 
him  imploring  his  protection. 

Maurice  promised  him  all  the  assistance  in  his  power, 
having  previously  assured  himself  that  his  interference 
was  likely  to  do  Favart  more  harm  than  good  with  the 
Brussels  judges  in  their  present  state  of  feeling  against 
the  recent  invaders  of  their  country.  The  poet's  appeal 
against  the  unjust  decision  failed,  and,  to  make  matters 
worse,  the  proprietors  of  the  theatre,  secretly  instigated 
by  the  Marshal,  applied  to  the  Paris  Courts  for  permis- 
sion to  execute  the  order  for  Favart's  arrest  on  French 
territory. 

While  these  events  were  taking  place  in  Flanders, 
Justine  was  in  Paris,  where,  if  we  are  to  credit  the  evi- 
dence of  Meusnier,  the  Marshal  had  succeeded  in  per- 
suading her  to  return  to  him,  and  had  established  her  in 


2 50   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

a  house  belonging  to  a  Madame  de  Lesseville,  which 
had  been  specially  furnished  for  her  benefit  by  Ossere, 
a  fashionable  upholsterer  of  the  Pont  Notre-Dame. 
Here — we  are  still  following  Meusnier — she  lived  "  in  a 
species  of  captivity,"  all  communication  with  her  husband 
being  most  strictly  interdicted.  In  defiance  of  this  pro- 
hibition, however,  she  admitted  him  into  the  house  at 
night,  when  he  contrived  to  so  work  upon  her  feelings 
that  she  resolved  to  defy  the  Marshal  a  second  time. 
"  Accordingly,  one  fine  night,  when  the  latter  was  at 
Chambord,  the  Chantilly  packed  her  belongings,  carried 
off  everything  that  she  could,  and  retired  with  her  hus- 
band to  her  mother-in-law's  house  in  the  Rue  de  Verrerie. 
From  there  she  wrote  to  the  Marshal,  informing  him  that 
it  was  no  longer  possible  for  her  to  live  in  sin,  and  that 
her  salvation  was  dearer  to  her  than  all  the  fortunes  in 
the  world ;  notwithstanding  which,  she  would  retain  for 
him  eternal  esteem  and  gratitude."  Meusnier  adds  that 
the  Marshal,  though  naturally  much  surprised  at  such 
conduct  on  the  lady's  part,  succeeded  in  controlling  his 
indignation,  and  "  sought  to  avenge  himself  only  by  new 
benefits."1 

The  first  of  these  "benefits"  was  to  make  strong 
representations  to  the  authorities  on  behalf  of  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  Brussels  theatre,  who,  as  we  have  men- 
tioned, were  endeavouring  to  get  Favart  extradited,  and 
to  succeed  in  obtaining  a  promise  that  the  necessary 
warrant  should  be  duly  granted.  He  then  wrote  to 
Justine  as  follows  : — 

"  I  am  informed,  Mademoiselle,  that  the  Demoiselles 
Myesses  (the  proprietors  of  the  Brussels  theatre)  intend 

1  Manuscrit  trouve  a  la  Bastille  (1789),  p.  6. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  251 

to  prosecute  Favart,  in  virtue  of  the  decree  which 
they  obtained  against  him  at  Brussels.  I  think  that  it 
will  be  advisable  for  you  to  go  away,  and,  as  you  are  not 
happily  situated,  I  offer  you  an  allowance  of  500  livres, 
which  will  be  paid  you  every  month,  until  your  affairs 
have  taken  a  favourable  turn. 

"  Have  the  kindness  to  inform  me  of  your  decision 
in  this  matter,  and  the  place  that  you  or  Favart  have 
chosen  for  your  retreat. 

"You  are  aware,  Mademoiselle,  of  my  sentiments 
for  you." 

Favart  took  upon  himself  the  task  of  answering  the 
Marshal's  letter.  He  tendered  him  his  very  humble 
thanks  for  his  offer,  which,  however,  he  declined,  as  he 
had  done  nothing  to  merit  such  generosity,  and  it  would 
be  disgraceful  for  him  to  accept  it.  At  the  same  time, 
all  unsuspicious  of  Maurice's  duplicity,  he  implored  his 
protection  against  the  Demoiselles  Myesses,  and  went  to 
his  house  to  seek  his  advice. 

Maurice  advised  him  to  make  his  escape  while  there 
was  yet  time;  and  old  Madame  Favart,  having  succeeded 
in  borrowing  fifty  louis  for  her  son,  from  Mile.  Lamotte 
of  the  Comedie-Fransaise,  the  unfortunate  poet  fled  to 
Strasburg  the  same  night,  where  he  remained  for  four 
months  in  hiding.  He  had  effected  his  escape  none  too 
soon,  for  the  very  next  day  (June  10,  1749),  a  lettre  de 
cachet  for  his  arrest  was  issued. 

A  day  or  two  after  Favart's  flight,  Maurice  left  Paris 
on  a  visit  to  Dresden,  whence  he  wrote  to  the  poet's 
mother,  offering  to  find  her  son  "  honourable  employ- 
ment," and  "a  secure  asylum,  so  long  as  he  might  require 
one,"  and  assuring  her  of  his  desire  to  render  him  every 


252      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

service  that  lay  in  his  power.  Favart,  however,  seems  to 
have  grown  a  little  suspicious  of  the  Marshal's  protesta- 
tions of  friendship,  for,  when  the  offer  was  communicated 
to  him  he  declined  it,  and  elected  to  continue  in  hiding 
at  Strasburg. 

The  misfortunes  which  had  befallen  Favart  had  left 
his  family  without  resources,  and,  but  for  the  generosity 
of  Mile.  Lamotte  of  the  Comedie-Francaise,  they  would 
have  found  themselves  in  sore  straits.  Justine,  however, 
took  advantage  of  the  Marshal's  absence  from  Paris  to 
enter  into  negotiations  with  the  Comedie-Italienne,  and, 
on  August  6,  1749,  made  her  debut  there,  as  Marianne  in 
the  £preuve  of  Marivaux.  Her  success  was  astonishing. 
"  The  pit  loudly  demanded  that  she  should  be  received 
into  the  company,"  writes  Colle,  who  was  among  the 
audience  ;  "  and,  whereas  it  was  the  rule  not  to  admit 
French  into  the  Italian  troupes,  or  Italians  into  the 
French,  it  was  altogether  different  in  her  case ;  there  was 
a  cabal  in  her  favour,  and  the  public  had  only  to  make  a 
noise  for  the  regulation  to  be  set  aside."  Colle  expresses 
his  opinion  that  the  habituts  of  the  pit,  particularly  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne,  were  becoming  "  childish  and  im- 
becile," and  "  ought  to  be  placed  under  restraint." 

Poor  Justine's  delight  at  her  success  ("  I  have  made 
all  Paris  rush  to  the  theatre,"  she  wrote  to  Favart)  was 
not  of  long  duration.  The  Marshal  returned  from 
Dresden  "  more  in  love  with  her  than  ever,  notwith- 

1  Colle,  Journal  et  Memoircs  (edit.  1868),  i.  99.  Colle,  like  Grimm, 
shows  himself  very  severe  on  Justine,  whom  almost  all  other  contemporary 
writers  agree  in  representing  as  a  charming  woman  and  an  actress  of  re- 
markable talent.  He  describes  her  as  "  an  impudent  creature,  without 
intelligence  or  skill,  who  sings  vaudevilles  with  repulsive  indecency,  and 
dances  with  movements  which  seem  suggestive  and  disgusting  to  persons 
of  the  smallest  delicacy." 


JUSTINE   FAVART  253 

standing  all  the  reasons  he  had  to  complain  of  her." 
According  to  Meusnier,  it  had  been  largely  due  to  his 
influence  with  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber  that  the 
difficulty  in  regard  to  her  admission  to  the  Comedie- 
Italienne  had  been  so  speedily  overcome  ;  but,  when  he 
asked  for  his  reward,  the  lady  would  have  nothing  to  say 
to  him.  "  Far  from  showing  the  least  sensibility  of  the 
Marshal's  kindness,  she  coldly  informed  him  that  she  was 
firmly  resolved  to  live  as  an  honest  woman,  and  to  labour 
for  her  salvation.  This  last  example  of  ingratitude  and 
bad  faith  confounded  the  Marshal." l 

On  September  i  Justine  wrote  to  the  fugitive  at 
Strasburg : — 

"  The  Marshal  is  still  furious  against  me ;  but  I  am 
quite  indifferent  to  that.  He  has  just  written  a  letter 
to  Bercaville  (his  secretary),  wherein  he  charges  him  to 
tell  our  mother  (Madame  Favart)  that,  if  you  come  to 
Paris,  and  if  she  has  any  affection  for  you,  of  which  he 
has  no  doubt,,  she  must  send  you  away  instantly ;  and 
that  this  counsel  was  a  last  mark  of  his  kindness  for  her. 

"  That,  as  for  Mile.  Chantilly,  she  is  deserving  of  no 
consideration  at  his  hands,  a  fact  which  ought  not  to 
occasion  you  any  vexation. 

"  Your  friends  are  under  the  impression  that  you  are 
travelling  in  France  for  your  own  diversion.  If  you 
wish  it,  I  will  consign  my  debut  to  all  the  devils  and 
set  out  at  once  to  join  you.  Let  me  know  your  wishes, 
and  I  will  follow  them  implicitly.  .  .  .  The  house  is 
always  crowded  on  the  nights  on  which  I  appear.  I  have 
been  playing  the  part  of  the  dancer  in  Je  ne  sais  quoi, 
and  of  Fanchon  in  La  Triomphe  de  rinttret.  The  ballet 

1   Manuscrit  trouve  a  la  Bastille  (1789)  p.  8. 


254      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

of  La  Marmotte  is  still  being  played  with  success.  Your 
couplets  are  always  received  with  applause.  The  duet 
which  I  sing  with  Richard  is  also  your  work ;  the  mere 
fact  that  it  is  yours  ensures  my  singing  it  well.  I  am 
threatened  with  much  evil,  but  I  laugh  at  it ;  I  will 
come  with  all  my  heart  to  beg  with  you. 

"  I  have  just  learned  from  your  mother  and  sister 
that  the  Marshal  wishes  to  replace  the  little  Riviere ; l 
and,  for  that  purpose,  has  sent  word  to  me  that  he  loves 
me  more  than  ever.  Henceforth,  it  will  be  no  longer 
advisable  for  me  to  go  and  pay  my  court  to  him. 

"  If  it  be  not  possible  for  us  to  remain  here,  we  will 
go  away  and  end  our  days  tranquilly  in  some  foreign 
country.  I  am  for  ever  your  wife  and  sweetheart." 

When  this  letter  was  written,  Justine  had  been  for 
some  weeks  under  strict  surveillance.  "On  July  16, 
1749,"  writes  Meusnier,  "I  received  orders  to  keep  her 
under  observation,  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  able  to  render 
an  account  of  all  her  actions  and  movements,  while  the 
Marshal,  on  his  side,  worked  to  thwart  all  her  plans." 
He  then  relates  how  he  bribed  a  servant  of  the  Favarts, 
named  Jacques,  to  keep  watch  and  ward  over  his  mistress 
within  doors,  while  he  himself  followed  her  when  she 
left  the  house.  This  kind  of  thing  went  on  until  the 
beginning  of  September,  apparently  without  much 
result,  and  then  the  Marshal  "  brought  another  battery 
into  action." 

We  have  mentioned  that  Justine's  father,  M.  Duron- 

ceray,  had  not  been  present  at  her  marriage  with  Favart, 

but  had  given  his  consent  in  writing.     For  the  past  two 

years  he   had   been    confined   as   a   dipsomaniac   in    the 

1  Mile.  Riviere,  one  of  Maurice's  numerous  mistresses. 


JUSTINE   FA V ART  255 

convent  of  the  Freres  de  la  Charite,  at  Senlis,  apparently 
on  the  application  of  his  daughter,  against  whom  he  was, 
in  consequence,  much  incensed.  The  Marshal  now  deter- 
mined to  make  use  of  this  unfortunate  man  for  his  own 
ends,  and,  accordingly,  obtained  his  release  from  the 
convent  at  Sens  and  had  him  brought  to  Paris,  where 
he  lost  no  time  in  seeking  an  interview  with  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police  and  formally  accusing  his  daughter 
of  having  contracted  an  illegal  marriage,  inasmuch  as 
he  had  never  given  his  consent  to  her  union  with  Favart, 
and  the  document  purporting  to  contain  it  had  been  a 
barefaced  forgery.  This,  of  course,  was  a  very  serious 
offence  indeed,  and,  supported  by  the  Marshal,  the  worthy 
M.  Duronceray  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  lettre  de 
cachet  for  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  Justine,  whose 
fate  was  now  entirely  in  the  hands  of  her  terrible 
admirer. 

The  lettre  de  cachet  was  granted  on  September  3  ; 
but  it  was  not  the  Marshal's  intention  to  allow  it  to  be 
executed  at  once.  Three  days  later,  the  police-agent, 
Meusnier,  acting  under  his  instructions,  conducted  the 
unconscious  instrument  of  his  employer's  villainy  to  a 
cafe  adjoining  the  Comedie-Italienne,  where  Justine  was 
at  that  moment  performing.  Here,  having  been  well 
primed  with  his  favourite  vintage,  the  wretched  old  man 
proceeded  to  regale  all  whom  he  could  persuade  to  listen 
to  him  with  a  harrowing  account  of  his  daughter's 
wickedness  and  the  terrible  things  he  had  suffered  at 
her  hands.  Finally,  he  succeeded  in  working  himself 
into  such  a  frenzy  of  indignation  that  he  could  with 
difficulty  be  dissuaded  from  rushing  into  the  theatre 
and  making  a  public  demonstration  against  her.  "  This 
manoeuvre,"  writes  Meusnier  cynically,  "was  merely 


256      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

intended  to  induce  the  public  to  believe  that  the 
Marshal  had  no  share  in  the  coup  which  he  was  plan- 
ning, namely,  to  cause  the  Chantilly  to  be  shut  up." 

Next  day,  accompanied  by  a  priest,  who  was  well 
known  as  a  frequenter  of  the  Jesuit  College  in  the  Rue 
Saint- Jacques,  M.  Duronceray  called  upon  the  leading 
members  of  the  Comedie-Italienne,  to  whom  he  related 
his  sad  experiences.  Mile.  Coraline,  Justine's  rival  in 
the  affections  of  the  public,  was  so  touched  by  his 
account  of  her  colleague's  perfidy  that  she  could  not 
restrain  her  emotion,  whereupon  all  who  were  present 
followed  her  example,  and  the  room  resounded  with 
lamentations. 

Justine  would  not  appear  to  have  been  greatly  dis- 
concerted by  the  manoeuvres  of  M.  Duronceray  and  his 
sympathisers ;  secure  in  the  favour  of  a  public  always 
very  indulgent  towards  the  moral  shortcomings  of  its 
idols,  she  probably  felt  that  she  could  afford  to  ignore 
the  gossip  of  the  coulisses.  The  Marshal,  however,  pre- 
tending to  have  forgiven  her  for  her  recent  rebuff,  now 
sent  to  warn  her  that  her  father  was  endeavouring  to 
obtain  a  lettre  de  cachet  to  have  her  shut  up,  and  advised 
her  to  leave  Paris  until  the  storm  had  blown  over.  His 
object  was  to  induce  her  to  rejoin  her  husband,  when 
he  intended  to  have  them  both  arrested.  In  this,  as 
we  shall  see,  he  was  only  partially  successful. 

At  the  beginning  of  October,  the  troupe  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne  set  out  for  Fontainebleau,  to  give 
a  series  of  performances  before  the  Court.  Justine 
obtained  leave  of  absence,  and,  having  written  to  Favart 
to  meet  her  at  Luneville,  left  Paris,  on  October  7, 
accompanied  by  her  sister-in-law,  Marguerite  Favart, 
and  followed,  at  a  discreet  interval,  by  Meusnier  and 


JUSTINE   FAVART  257 

a  detachment  of  police,  with  orders  not  to  interfere 
with  the  actress  until  they  had  secured  the  person  of 
her  husband.  The  latter,  however,  succeeded  in  evading 
them,  in  spite  of  all  their  vigilance,  and  they  had  to  be 
content  with  the  rather  barren  honour  of  arresting  poor 
Justine  ;  which  they  did  in  a  very  ungallant  manner,  in  the 
middle  of  night,  at  her  inn  at  Luneville,  nearly  frighten- 
ing her  and  her  sister-in-law  to  death  in  consequence. 

Next  morning  Meusnier  and  his  captives  started  for 
Meaux,  where  the  ladies  were  separated ;  Marguerite 
Favart  being  permitted  to  return  to  Paris,  while  Justine, 
after  being  kept  for  some  days  at  Meaux,  was  conducted 
to  the  Ursuline  convent  at  Les  Grands-Andelys,  on  the 
borders  of  Normandy.  On  October  20  she  wrote  to 
her  husband  : — 

"They  have  brought  me  to  the  convent  of  Les 
Grands-Andelys,  to  the  Ursulines,  situated  twenty-two 
leagues  from  Paris.  I  have  seen  the  lettre  de  cachet; 
it  is  my  father  who  has  caused  me  to  be  placed  here. 
Do  not  lose  an  instant ;  send  all  our  papers  [i.e.  the 
papers  connected  with  their  marriage]  to  the  Minister, 
M.  d'Argenson,  and  especially  my  father's  consent, 
signed  with  his  own  hand ;  it  is  in  the  keeping  of  the 
cure  of  Saint-Pierre-aux-Bceufs.  Collect  our  witnesses, 
and  take  them  with  you  to  the  Minister.  If  it  is  my 
father  who  is  persecuting  us  in  this  manner,  the  truth 
will  be  revealed,  and  we  shall  speedily  have  justice  done 
us.  If  this  trouble  is  due  to  some  of  our  enemies,  they 
may  do  as  they  please ;  their  influence  may  perhaps  be 
sufficient  to  separate  us  for  life,  but  they  can  never 
prevent  us  loving  one  another,  nor  break  the  sacred 
and  honourable  tie  which  binds  our  hearts  together. 

R 


QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

"  I  have  just  written  to  the  Marechal  de  Saxe  about 
what  has  befallen  us ;  he  has  always  shown  much  friend- 
ship for  us.  I  am  sure  that  he  will  be  willing  to  interest 
himself  in  our  affairs  and  render  us  assistance  on  this 
occasion. 

"  P.S. — Do  not  commit  the  folly  of  coming  to  seek 
me  here." 

A  week  later,  she  writes  again  : — 

"  I  am  in  a  good  convent,  where  they  pay  me  every 
imaginable  attention.  Spare  no  pains  to  justify  our 
marriage  with  the  Minister.  You  must  write  to  M.  de 
Paumi ; l  he  can  do  us  a  service  with  my  father.  You 
need  not  write  to  the  Marechal  de  Saxe  to  ask  his 
protection  ;  he  has  rendered  us  too  many  services  to 
refuse  to  assist  us  on  the  present  occasion. 

"  If  I  had  wished,  I  might  have  escaped  what  has 
befallen  me ;  I  had  only  to  accept  the  retreat  which  a 
person 2  who  warned  me  of  the  lettre  de  cachet  obtained 
against  me  offered  me ;  but  I  had  no  desire  to  do  so." 

A  few  days  after  the  first  of  these  letters  was  written, 
Justine  received  a  letter  from  the  Marshal,  in  answer  to 
one  which  she  had  sent  him  from  Commercy,  on  her  way 
to  Luneville.  In  this  he  attributed  her  misfortunes  to 
the  action  of  the  leaders  of  the  devots^  or  devout  party, 
at  the  Court,  who  were  always  eager  to  punish  persons 
who  contravened  the  marriage  laws,  and  "did  not  easily 
let  go  their  prey."  "  Favart,"  he  adds,  "  ought  to  feel 
highly  flattered  that  you  should  sacrifice  for  him  fortune, 

1  The  Marquis  de  Paulmy,  son  of  the   Marquis  d'Argenson,  and 
afterwards  Minister  for  War. 

2  Without  doubt,  Maurice  de  Saxe. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  259 

pleasure,  glory,  everything,  in  short,  that  might  have 
made  the  happiness  of  your  life.  I  hope  that  he  will 
be  able  to  compensate  you  for  it,  and  that  you  will 
never  feel  the  sacrifice  which  you  are  making.  .  .  .  You 
would  not  make  my  happiness  and  your  own.  Perhaps 
you  will  make  your  own  unhappiness  and  that  of  Favart. 
I  do  not  wish  it,  but  I  fear  it. — Farewell." 

At  the]  same  time,  the  hypocritical  Marshal  wrote  to 
the  actress  Mile.  Fleury,  who  had  exchanged  the  role  of 
mistress  for  that  of  confidante,  expressing  the  grief  he 
felt  on  hearing  of  the  arrest  of  the  "  little  fairy,"  whom 
he  had  "  imagined  out  of  danger."  "  How  I  pity  that 
poor  mother  [Madame  Favart],  who  is  a  courageous  and 
sensible  woman  !  I  have  been  her  friend  since  the  first 
time  I  spoke  to  her.  Tell  her  that  I  will  do  my  best, 
and  as  she  and  Favart  have  not  a  sou,  beg  her  to  accept 
fifty  louis,  for  which  you  will  find  an  order  enclosed. 
That  will  help  them  for  the  present,  and  I  promise  them 
assistance  in  every  way  for  the  future."  He  then  declares 
his  opinion  that  the  person  responsible  for  the  trouble  is 
the  priest  who  had  accompanied  Justine's  father  on  his 
visits  to  the  leading  members  of  the  ComMie-Italienne, 
and  that  every  effort  should  be  made  to  discover  him,  if 
necessary,  by  bribing  Meusnier  to  reveal  his  whereabouts. 

The  money  offered  by  the  Marshal  was  refused  by 
Favart,  nor  could  the  old  lady  and  her  daughter  be 
prevailed  upon  to  accept  it. 

Early  in  November,  Justine  was  removed  from  Les 
Grands-Andelys  to  a  convent  at  Angers.  Her  new 
residence  was  one  of  the  regular  convents  de  force^  or 
houses  of  detention,  where  the  most  rigorous  discipline 
prevailed,  and  she  was  treated  "  like  a  State  criminal." 
This,  as  the  worthy  Marshal  had  of  course  foreseen, 


260      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

rendered  her  supremely  miserable,  and  all  the  more 
eager  to  recover  her  liberty.  To  do  her  justice,  how- 
ever, she  would  appear  to  have  been  far  more  exercised 
over  the  fate  of  her  husband  and  his  mother  and  sister, 
left,  through  his  misfortune,  almost  entirely  without 
resources,  than  over  her  own  troubles ;  for,  on  Novem- 
ber 6,  we  find  Maurice  writing  from  Chambord  : — 

"  The  great  attachment  that  you  entertain  for  Favart 
and  his  relatives  is  very  praiseworthy ;  but  I  doubt 
whether  it  is  advisable  to  manifest  it  so  clearly,  since 
it  is  certain  that  it  is  this  same  great  attachment  which 
has  placed  you  in  the  vexatious  position  in  which  you 
now  find  yourself.  I  leave  to  your  good  sense  to  judge 
of  the  value  of  what  I  take  the  liberty  of  observing  in 
regard  to  this  matter.  .  .  .  What  is  certain,  is  that  he 
has  not  been  arrested,  and  that  he  is  well,  and  that  none 
of  his  relatives  are  in  danger  of  dying,  as  you  appear  to 
fear.  They  are  all  very  tranquil,  and  have  not  taken 
any  steps  to  secure  your  liberation.  I  do  not  com- 
prehend their  reasons." 

As  time  went  on,  the  captive  became  a  prey  to  the 
deepest  despair.  '*  Life  is  a  burden  to  me  ;  I  loathe 
it,"  she  writes  to  Maurice,  dating  her  letter  "  December 
4Oth,"  doubtless  to  express  more  forcibly  the  length  and 
dreariness  of  her  days.  "  I  desire  to  die,  in  order  that 
every  one  may  be  satisfied ;  I  am  living  in  a  state  of 
despair.  Never  can  I  recover  from  the  blow  that  has 
brought  all  this  upon  me." 

On  his  side,  the  Marshal  advised  patience,  assuring 
her  that  he  was  doing  everything  in  his  power  to  procure 
her  release,  but  that  the  difficulties  with  which  he  had  to 
contend  were  very  great,  inasmuch  as  it  appeared  that 


JUSTINE   FAVART  261 

her  father  had  acted  at  the  instigation  of  a  band  of 
religious  fanatics,  whose  names  he  had  not  yet  been 
able  to  ascertain.  If  he  could  find  M.  Duronceray, 
he  might  wring  the  truth  from  him,  but,  unfortunately, 
up  to  the  present,  all  attempts  to  discover  his  where- 
abouts had  proved  fruitless.  M.  Duronceray,  it  may 
be  mentioned,  was  at  this  time  at  Ormeaux,  near 
Vincennes,  in  charge  of  one  of  Maurice's  agents ! 

In  the  same  letter,  he  tells  her  that  Favart — the  poor 
man  was  then  hiding  in  a  cellar  in  the  house  of  a  village 
priest  in  Lorraine — had  paid  a  visit  to  Paris,  and  been 
seen  by  several  persons ;  that  he  was  informed  that  no 
steps  would  be  taken  against  him  by  the  police,  so  long 
as  he  remained  quiet,  and  that  he  had  appeared  very 
far  from  inconsolable  at  his  wife's  captivity :  "  The 
race  of  poets  does  not  take  things  so  much  to  heart. 
Voltaire  has  produced  two  tragedies  since  the  death  of 
Madame  du  Chatelet,  though  it  was  said  that  he  was 
dead  also,  because  he  was  believed  to  be  much  attached 
to  that  lady.  But  to  die,  malpeste !  an  author's  feelings 
do  not  carry  him  as  far  as  that :  they  are  too  familiar 
with  fiction  to  love  reality  up  to  that  point." x 

At  length,  about  the  middle  of  December,  when  the 
Marshal  considered  that  his  victim  had  had  enough  of 
conventual  life  to  induce  her  to  become  amenable  to 
reason,  he  informed  her  that,  thanks  to  his  untiring 
efforts  on  her  behalf,  she  would,  in  all  probability,  be 
shortly  released  and  exiled  a  certain  distance  from  Paris. 
He  was  as  yet,  he  said,  in  ignorance  of  the  place  to  which 
she  was  to  be  sent,  but  was  hopeful  that  it  would  be 
within  easy  distance  of  the  capital,  so  that  he  might  be 

1  Letter  of  December  6,  1749  ;   Manuscrit  trouve  a  la  Bastille,  p.  36 
et  seq. 


262      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

able  to  assist  her  "  de  toutes  les  choses  agreables  et  utiles" 
Justine,  overjoyed  at  the  prospect  of  a  speedy  end  to 
her  captivity,  replied,  begging  him  "  in  God's  name  not 
to  deceive  her,"  and  declaring  that  she  was  suffering 
torments  from  uncertainty.  "  I  await  news  from  day  to 
day  with  the  utmost  impatience  since  you  have  given  me 
hope  of  being  able  to  leave  this  villainous  house.  Every 
time  that  the  bell  rings,  I  have  terrible  palpitation  of  the 
heart.  I  believe  that  it  is  some  one  come  to  fetch  me. 
I  bound  to  the  door,  and,  when  I  find  that  it  is  not  I 
whom  they  seek,  I  return,  covered  with  confusion,  to 
shut  myself  up  in  my  little  cell  and  weep,  like  a  little 
child  who  has  been  beaten  for  ten  or  twelve  days. 
That  is  the  life  I  am  leading.  When  I  leave  here, 
1  shall  imagine  that  I  am  seeing  daylight  for  the  first 
time.  I  do  not  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness,  nor  for 
all  the  obligations  under  which  you  have  placed  me  ; 
they  are  numberless,  and  I  should  never  make  an  end. 
I  know  that  you  do  not  care  for  compliments,  and  I 
will  therefore  merely  tell  you  that,  so  long  as  I  live,  I 
shall  use  every  endeavour  to  prove  to  you  my  gratitude 
and  appreciation  of  all  that  you  are  doing  for  us. 
Monseigneur,  I  implore  you  in  mercy  to  take  me  from 
this  place ;  you  will  be  performing  a  work  of  mercy 
in  releasing  a  poor  little  prisoner  who  has  never  deserved 
to  be  one.  I  eagerly  await  this  good  news  from  you." 

In  the  closing  days  of  the  year,  Justine  received 
another  letter  from  the  Marshal,  written  from  his 
chateau  at  Piples,  near  Boissy-Saint-Leger,  in  which 
he  informed  her  that  orders  had  been  given  for  her 
release,  and  only  awaited  the  signature  of  the  Comte 
d'Argenson,  the  Minister  for  Paris,  who  was,  at  that 
moment,  too  ill  to  attend  to  any  matters  not  of  the 


JUSTINE   FAVART  263 

first  importance.  The  letter  concluded  with  the  follow- 
ing very  significant  words,  in  a  woman's  handwriting, 
probably  that  of  the  Marshal's  ex-mistress  and  con- 
fidante, Mile.  Fleury :  "  Your  friends  do  not  forget 
you,  my  dear  Jantillesse,1  and  love  you  always ;  but, 
in  God's  name,  become  reasonable ;  think  of  your 
own  happiness  and  that  of  those  dear  to  you." 

On  the  other  hand,  Justine's  sister-in-law,  Marguerite 
Favart,  who  had  evidently  discovered  the  secret  of  the 
persecution  which  the  luckless  couple  were  undergoing, 
wrote  to  the  captive,  apparently  in  answer  to  a  letter 
from  Angers,  entreating  her  to  be  firm,  and  to  refuse 
to  purchase  liberty  at  the  price  which  would  no  doubt 
be  set  upon  it : — 

"  If  you  think,  as  you  show  you  do,  my  dear  sister- 
in-law,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  hesitate  as  to  the  course 
you  ought  to  take,  since  you  are  in  a  position  to  do  as 
you  please.  It  was  not  necessary  to  ask  the  advice 
of  my  brother.  You  ought  to  know  him  well  enough 
to  be  sure  that  he  would  not  give  you  any  counsel 
different  from  that  which  he  has  always  given.  He 
knows  of  no  arrangement  that  can  be  made  with  infamy ; 
the  most  cruel  punishments  would  not  terrify  him,  nor 
could  he  be  seduced  by  the  most  brilliant  advantages. 
He  escaped,  for  a  time,  from  the  rest  of  the  evils  pre- 
pared for  him,  and  did  not  do  so  for  his  own  sake. 
The  loss  of  you  had  rendered  his  life  odious  to  him ; 
but  he  yielded  to  our  alarms ;  he  feared  the  despair  of 
a  mother  and  a  sister  already  afflicted  by  the  misfortunes 
which  had  overtaken  him.  His  son,  ourselves,  and 

1  Allusion  to  Justine's  stage  name  of  Chantilly,  which  the  Marshal 
spelt  Jantilly. 


264      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

yourself  are  the  only  objects  of  his  hopes  and  fears. 
That  is  all  that  can  interest  him  now.  He  has  lost, 
through  these  continual  persecutions,  his  friends,  his 
protectors,  his  property,  his  talents,  his  health,  and 
all  his  resources.  Nevertheless,  he  will  consider  all 
atoned  for  when  he  finds  in  you  sentiments  worthy 
of  him.  He  does  not  ask  to  be  their  object :  honour 
alone  must  determine  you.  Content  with  loving  you, 
he  demands  nothing  in  return  ;  knowing,  by  sad  ex- 
perience, that  the  heart  is  not  to  be  commanded. 
If  it  be  true  that  you  have  been  detained  by  force, 
now  that  you  are  free,  you  will  find  with  us  a  poor 
but  honourable  asylum.  Although  everything  has  been 
done  to  cast  upon  my  brother  and  upon  us  part  of 
the  disgrace  in  which  you  have  been  immersed,  no 
one  has  been  deceived,  save  ill-informed  or  ignorant 
persons.  Our  poverty,  our  sufferings,  justify  us  in 
the  eyes  of  sensible  people ;  for  which  reason  our  con- 
dition has  become  dear  to  us :  by  contenting  your- 
self with  it,  you  can  justify  yourself  also.  Such  are 
the  sentiments  of  my  brother  and  ourselves.  I  inform 
you  of  them  by  my  mother's  orders.  Adieu,  my  good 
friend ;  your  affectionate  sister  embraces  and  awaits 
you.  Adieu." 

Several  historians  are  of  opinion  that  Justine  followed 
her  sister-in-law's  advice,  and  that  Maurice,  in  despair 
of  bending  her  to  his  will,  placed  no  further  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  her  release.  Such,  unfortunately,  was  not 
the  case.  Early  in  January  1750,  the  actress  was  released 
from  the  convent  at  Angers,  and  exiled  to  Issoudun,  in 
Berri.  On  February  10,  she  obtained  permission  from 

1  Cited  by  Desnoiresterres,  Epicuriens  et  /ettres,  p.  253. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  265 

Berryer,  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  to  absent  herself  for 
a  month  from  her  place  of  exile,  a  permission  which  was 
renewed  at  the  expiration  of  that  period.  Where  did 
she  spend  the  time  ?  The  answer  is  to  be  found  in  the 
report  of  Meusnier  : — 

"  But  as  M.  de  Loewdahi  [Marshal  Lowendal,  the 
lieutenant  and  friend  of  Maurice]  is  visiting  the  Marquis 
de  Castelnau  in  the  vicinity  of  Issoudun,  the  Marshal 
has  caused  the  Chantilly  to  be  sent  to  Chambord,  and 
thence  to  Piples,  where  she  has  been  about  six  weeks, 
under  the  charge  of  Mouret,  wife  of  the  concierge  of 
Chambord."  x 

The  evidence  of  Meusnier  is  confirmed  by  the  Abbe 
de  Voisenon,  than  whom  no  one  was  better  acquainted 
with  the  private  affairs  of  the  Favarts : — 

"  The  Marshal,  angered  by  her  resistance,  caused  her 
to  be  carried  off,  and  threatened  to  have  Favart  killed, 
if  she  refused  to  surrender  herself  to  him.  She  was 
terrified,  and,  through  love  for  her  husband,  was  un- 
faithful to  him.  .  .  .  The  Marshal  died ;  and,  as  the 
Chantiily  mingled  with  the  favours  that  were  snatched 
from  her  the  most  cruel  reproaches,  she  scarcely  obtained 
any  advantage  besides  her  freedom." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  following  June,  the  lettres 
de  cachet  against  Justine  and  her  husband  were  revoked, 
and  they  were  permitted  to  return  to  Paris.  Poor 
Favart  had  been  reduced  to  terrible  straits.  Almost 
penniless  and  firmly  convinced  that  all  the  police  in 
the  realm  were  at  his  heels,  he  had  for  some  months 
past,  as  we  have  mentioned,  been  hiding  in  a  cellar  in 
the  house  of  a  compassionate  village  priest  in  Lorraine, 

1  Manuscrit  trouve  a  la  Bastille  (1789),  p.  15. 

2  (Euvret  de  f  Abbe  de  V^non  (edit.  1781),  iv.  70. 


266      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

earning  a  precarious  livelihood  by  painting  fans  by  the 
light  of  a  lamp.  The  cruel  treatment  he  had  received 
had  impaired  his  health  and  broken  his  spirit,  and  he 
received  the  news  that  his  trials  were  at  an  end  with 
feelings  of  positive  indifference.  "  It  seems,"  wrote  he 
to  a  friend  who  had  sheltered  him  at  Strasburg,  "  that 
they  are  tired  of  persecuting  me  ;  my  exile  is  over,  but 
I  am  none  the  happier  for  that ;  my  sorrows  are  of  a 
kind  that  can  end  only  with  my  life." 

Three  months  after  this  letter  was  written  (November 
30,  1750),  Maurice  de  Saxe  died  at  Chambord,1  and 
poor  Favart  could  breathe  freely  once  more.  The  poet 
might  have  been  pardoned  had  he  sought  consolation 
for  his  sufferings  in  some  biting  epigram  at  the  expense 
of  the  man  who  had  wronged  him  so  cruelly.  But  his 
kindly  and  inoffensive  nature  was  incapable  of  malice, 
and  he  behaved  with  a  moderation  almost  amounting  to 
magnanimity.  "  I  think,"  he  wrote  to  one  of  his  friends, 
"  that  1  may  be  allowed  to  say  on  the  death  of  this 
illustrious  man  of  war,  what  the  father  of  our  theatre 
said  of  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  : — 

"  Qu'on  parle  bien  ou  mal  du  fameux  mar£chal, 
Ma  prose  ni  mes  vers  n'en  diront  jamais  rien  : 
II  m^a  fait  trop  de  bien  pour  en  dire  du  mal ; 
II  nVa  fait  de  mal  pour  en  dire  du  bien." 

The  Marshal  was  dead,  but  his  death  could  not 
undo  the  evil  he  had  done.  Favart,  who  had  loved  his 
wife  with  all  the  strength  of  his  nature,  was  generous 

1  According  to  the  official  version,  of  a  malignant  fever  :  according 
to  local  rumour,  of  wounds  received  in  a  duel  with  the  Prince  de  Conti, 
with  whom  he  had  a  long-standing  quarrel.  The  Marshal's  biographer, 
M.  Saint- Rene  Taillandier,  inclines,  we  observe,  to  the  latter  view;  but 
the  evidence  he  adduces  does  not  seem  to  us  altogether  satisfactory. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  267 

enough  to  pardon  a  past  in  which  circumstances  had 
been  so  terribly  against  her.  Instead  of  reproaching  her, 
he  preferred  to  forget,  and  in  so  doing  acted  wisely ; 
for  in  Justine,  as  long  as  she  lived,  he  found  a  devoted 
friend  and  a  sure  counsellor,  on  whose  sympathy  and 
advice  he  was  always  able  to  rely,  and  a  companion 
whose  irrepressible  gaiety  was  proof  against  all  the 
troubles  and  anxieties  of  both  family  and  professional 
life.  But  his  generosity  went  no  further.  If  friendship 
had  survived  [Justine's  last  infidelity,  love  had  not.  "  Fly 
from  love  as  from  the  greatest  of  all  evils,"  he  wrote 
to  his  friend  at  Strasburg ;  and,  incredible  as  it  may 
appear,  when,  not  long  afterwards,  Justine,  piqued,  we 
may  presume,  by  her  husband's  indifference,  formed  a 
liaison  with  the  eccentric  little  Abbe  de  Voisenon,  Favart's 
friend  and  reputed  collaborator,  the  poet — this  man 
whom  we  have  seen  prefer  persecution,  exile,  and  misery 
to  dishonour — so  far  from  endeavouring  to  put  a  stop 
to  an  affair  which  amounted  to  a  serious  scandal,  appears 
to  have  regarded  it  with  the  utmost  complacency. 


The  removal  of  their  persecutor  left  the  Favarts  free 
to  resume  their  respective  professions,  and,  on  May  3, 
1751,  Justine  reappeared  on  the  stage  of  the  Comedie- 
Italienne,  in  a  piece  entitled  Les  Amants  inquiets,  of  which 
her  husband  was  the  author.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
following  year,  on  the  death  of  Riccoboni's  wife,  she 
was  allotted  a  full  part  in  the  company,  to  which  she 
remained  a  tower  of  strength  for  nearly  twenty  years ; 
her  talents  as  an  actress  and  a  singer  being  rivalled  by 
those  which  she  displayed  as  a  dancer,  "  turning  the 
heads  of  the  public  and  securing  even  the  support  of  the 


268      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

women."  Her  versatility  seems  to  have  been  truly 
amazing.  "  Soubrettes,  heroines,  country  girls,  simple 
parts,  character  parts,  all  became  her,"  says  Favart  in 
his  Memoires ;  "  in  a  word,  she  multiplied  herself  in- 
definitely, and  one  was  astonished  to  see  her  play  the 
same  day,  in  four  different  pieces,  parts  of  the  most 
opposite  character."  Her  powers  of  mimicry,  too, 
particularly  of  the  different  dialects  of  France,  have 
seldom  been  surpassed.  Provincials  whose  accents  she 
had  borrowed  could  with  difficulty  be  persuaded  that 
she  did  not  come  from  the  same  part  of  the  country 
as  themselves. 

Possessed  of  exquisite  taste  in  theatrical  matters, 
Justine  laboured  strenuously  for  a  reform  in  stage 
costume,  and  was  "  not  afraid  to  sacrifice  the  charms 
of  her  countenance  to  truthfulness  of  representation." 
Before  her  time,  actresses  who  played  the  parts  of 
soubrettes  and  peasant-girls  wore  immense  paniers,  with 
diamonds  in  their  hair  and  long  gloves  reaching  to  the 
elbow.  But  when,  in  August  1753,  she  created  the  role 
of  Bastienne  in  Les  Amours  de  Bastien  et  Bastienne,  a 
parody  of  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau's  Devin  du  village, 
which  she  had  composed  herself  in  collaboration  with 
Harny,  she  appeared  on  the  stage  wearing  a  simple 
woollen  gown,  with  her  hair  flat  on  her  head,  a  cross  of 
gold  on  her  neck,  bare  arms,  and  wooden  shoes.  The 
sabots  offended  some  critics  in  the  pit,  and  murmurs  of 
disapprobation  were  heard.  The  Abbe  de  Voisenon,  how- 
ever, saved  the  situation  by  a  happy  mot.  "  Messieurs"  he 
cried,  "  ces  sabots-la  donneront  des  souliers  aux  comediem" 
The  pit,  appreciating  the  abbe's  wit,  broke  into  laughter 
and  applause ;  the  malcontents  were  silenced,  and  the 
piece  had  so  great  a  vogue  that  the  players  grew  tired 


JUSTINE   FAVART  269 

of  acting  it  long  before  the  attendances  showed  any 
signs  of  diminishing.1 

Justine,  indeed,  neglected  nothing  to  arrive  at 
theatrical  truth.  In  Les  Trois  Sultanes,  the  plot  of 
which  was  derived,  like  several  other  of  Favart's  vaude- 
villes, from  the  Contes  moraux  of  Marmontel,  she  played 
the  part  of  Roxelane  in  a  dress  "  made  at  Constantinople 
with  the  materials  of  the  country."  This  was  the  first 
occasion  on  which  the  costume  of  Turkish  ladies  had 
been  seen  upon  the  French  stage,  and  though  Favart 
himself  declares  that  it  was  "  at  once  decent  and  volup- 
tuous," it  was  objected  to  ;  and  when  soon  afterwards 
another  play  in  which  the  action  passed  in  the  Orient 
was  represented  before  the  Court,  Justine's  reforming 
zeal  received  an  abrupt  check  by  an  order  from  the 
Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber  to  confine  herself  to 
the  ridiculous  and  fantastic  costume  established  by 
custom. 

Les  Trois  Sultanes^  it  may  be  mentioned,  in  spite 
of  the  unfavourable  comments  passed  upon  Roxelane's 
attire,  was  extraordinarily  successful ;  and  the  audience, 
we  are  assured,  were  transported  with  enthusiasm.  A 
peasant  in  the  pit,  "  rendu  fou  d'admiration"  demanded 
of  his  neighbour  the  name  of  the  author,  and  on  being 
told  that  it  was  Favart,  exclaimed  :  "  Morbleu !  I  would 
that  I  had  that  man  here ;  I  would  embrace  him  until 
I  had  kissed  the  skin  off  his  cheeks !  " 

Justine's  passion  for  local  colour  was  again  in  evidence 
when  the  interlude  called  Les  Chinois  was  represented. 
"She  appeared,  as  did  also  the  other  actors,  dressed 
exactly  in  the  Chinese  fashion.  The  dresses  which  she 
had  procured  had  been  made  in  China,  while  the  designs 

1  Compardon,  Les  Comediens  du  Roi  de  la  Troupe  itallenne,  ii.  210. 


270      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

for  the  scenery  and  properties  had  in  like  manner  been 
made  on  the  spot." 

Among  other  pieces  in  which  Justine  appeared  with 
success  may  be  mentioned  La  Servants  Mditresse,  Ninette 
a  la  Cour,  Annette^et  Lubin,  of  which  she  herself  was  part- 
author,  Les  Moissonneurs,  and  La  Fee  Urgele,  "  in  which," 
says  Voisenon,  "  she  played  the  part  of  the  old  woman 
in  a  manner  impossible  to  imitate."  According  to  the 
same  authority,  Favart  was  largely  indebted  for  the 
success  of  more  than  one  of  his  productions  to  sugges- 
tions made  by  his  wife,  notably  in  Ninette  a  la  Cour,  in 
which,  too,  she  was  responsible  for  many  of  the  airs. 

It  would  perhaps  have  been  better  for  Justine's 
professional  reputation  had  circumstances  compelled  her 
to  retire  from  the  stage  some  time  earlier  than  was  the 
case.  During  her  later  years,  the  critics  declared  that 
her  voice  had  become  thin  and  disagreeable,  and  that 
her  acting  had  lost  the  naivete1  which  had  been  its 
principal  charm.  She  had  become,  too,  extremely  stout, 
and  Madame  Necker,  then  Mile.  Churchod,  writing,  in 
1764,  to  Madame  de  Brenles,  mentions  that  she  had 
seen  her  playing  Annette,  "with  a  figure  twelve  feet 
broad  and  two  high." 1  The  public  were  more  indul- 
gent than  the  critics;  but  on  December  14,  1769, 
when  she  appeared  in  a  vaudeville  by  her  husband 
called  La  Rosiere  de  Salency,  she  was  very  coldly  received. 
The  poor  actress,  believing  herself  abandoned  by  the 
public  whose  idol  she  had  so  long  been,  and  suffering 
already  from  the  disease  of  which  she  eventually  died, 
played  from  that  time  less  frequently,  and,  at  the  end  of 
the  year  1771,  ceased  to  appear  altogether.  On  Twelfth- 
day  she  was  compelled  to  take  to  her  bed,  and  sent  for 

1   Desnoiresterres,  £p\cunens  et  Lettrcs,  p.  315. 


JUSTINE   FAVART  271 

the  notaries  to  make  her  will.  She  lingered  for  four 
months,  enduring  terrible  sufferings,  during  which  she 
continued  to  occupy  herself  with  the  management  of 
her  household,  while  her  gaiety  and  insouciance  never 
failed  her  for  a  single  moment.  "  One  day,"  says 
Grimm,  "  on  recovering  from  a  long  swoon,  she  per- 
ceived, among  those  whom  her  danger  had  hurriedly 
assembled  around  her,  one  of  her  neighbours  rather 
grotesquely  attired,  whereupon  she  began  to  smile  and 
remarked  that  she  believed  she  saw  '  the  clown  of 
Death ' ;  a  characteristic  mot  in  the  mouth  of  a  dying 
girl  of  the  theatre." 

Almost  to  the  last  Justine  seems  to  have  cherished 
a  vague  hope  that  she  would  ultimately  recover,  and, 
for  a  long  time,  refused  to  pronounce  the  renunciation 
of  her  profession  which  the  cure  of  her  parish  demanded, 
according  to  custom,  before  administering  the  last  Sacra- 
ments. Nor  was  it  until,  through  the  influence  of 
Voisenon,  she  had  obtained  a  promise  from  the  Gentle- 
men of  the  Chamber  that  her  salary  should  be  preserved 
to  her,  under  the  form  of  a  pension,  in  case  of  retirement, 
that  she  yielded,  and  exclaimed,  smiling :  "  Oh !  for 
the  moment,  I  renounce  it."  She  then  received  the 
Sacraments  and,  profiting  by  a  short  respite  from  pain, 
composed  her  own  epitaph,  which  she  set  to  music. 
She  died  on  April  21,  1772,  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  in  her  forty-sixth  year,  and  was  buried  the 
same  day  in  the  church  of  Saint-Eustache. 

Favart  survived  his  talented  wife  just  twenty  years, 
and  died  in  May  1792.  Towards  the  end  of  his  life, 
he  became  almost  blind,  notwithstanding  which  he  con- 
tinued to  work  for  the  theatre,  besides  keeping  up  an 
active  correspondence  with  the  Italian  dramatist  Goldoni, 


272      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

who  came  to  Paris  to  visit  him  in  1791.  The  most 
successful  of  his  later  pieces  was  La  Belle  Arsene,  music 
by  Monsigny,  produced  in  1775. 

Of  his  children  by  Justine,  the  only  one  to  call  for 
notice  here  is  his  second  son,  Charles  Nicolas  Joseph 
Favart.  Born  in  1749,  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  he  was 
admitted  a  sodetaire  of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise,  where  he 
remained  for  fifteen  years.  Though  but  a  moderate 
actor,  he  was  a  successful  dramatist ;  his  best  works 
were  Le  Diable  boileux,  ou  la  Chose  impossible  (1782) ;  Les 
Trots  Folies  (1786);  Le  Mariage  singulier  (1787)  ;  and 
La  yieillesse  a" Annette  et  Lubin  (1791),  the  last  in  colla- 
boration with  his  father.  His  son,  Antoine  Pierre 
Charles  Favart  (1780-1867),  entered  the  Diplomatic 
Service,  where  he  gained  some  little  distinction.  He 
assisted  Dumolard  in  editing  the  Memoires  of  his  grand- 
father, collaborated  in  a  couple  of  plays,  and  was  an 
amateur  painter  of  some  talent. 


VI 
MADEMOISELLE    CLAIRON 


273 


VI 
MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON 

FOR  more  than  seven  years  after  the  death  of  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur,  her  place  as  a  tragic  actress  remained  unfilled. 
During  these  years,  several  capable  tragediennes  appeared, 
notably  Jeanne  Gaussin,  a  beautiful  brunette  with  a  rich 
and  sympathetic  voice,  who  created  the  part  of  Zafre  in 
Voltaire's  tragedy  of  that  name  (August  13,  1732),  and 
moved  the  delighted  poet  to  address  her  in  the  following 
verses : — 

"  Jeanne  Gaussin,  recois  mon  tendre  hommage  ; 
Recois  mes  vers  au  theatre  applaudis  ; 
Protege-les  :  Zaire  est  ton  ouvrage  ; 
II  est  a  toi,  puisque  tu  1'embellis. 
Ce  sont  tes  yeux,  ces  yeux,  si  pleins  de  charmes, 
Qui  du  critique  ont  fait  tomber  les  armes."  l 

But  beautiful  as  Mile.  Gaussin  undoubtedly  was,  and 
excellent  as  was  her  acting  in  Za'fre  and  other  pathetic 
parts,  she  fell  very  far  short  of  the  standard  to  which 
her  gifted  predecessor  had  attained ;  nor  was  it  until 
August  1737  that  an  actress  worthy  to  assume  the 
mantle  of  Adrienne  arose. 

This  was  Marie  Fran9oise  Dumesnil,  who,  like 
Adrienne,  had  begun  her  career  at  theatres  in  the  East 
of  France,  and,  like  her,  singularly  enough,  had  received 
her  invitation  to  Paris  while  playing  at  Strasburg.  Her 
style,  which  was  marked  by  a  high  degree  of  truth  to 

1  Cited  by  Gueullette,  Acteurs  et  Actnces  du  Temps  passe,  p.  260. 


276      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Nature,  refinement,  and  technical  skill,  combined  with 
a  real  enthusiasm  for  her  art,  excited  general  admiration, 
and  her  d&but  was  brilliantly  successful.  In  the  classic 
repertoire  her  most  celebrated  roles  were  C16opatre, 
Clytemnestre,  and  Phedre ;  while  her  most  successful 
creation  was  MeYope  (February  20,  1743),  when,  ac- 
cording to  Voltaire,  she  kept  the  audience  in  tears  for 
three  successive  acts.1 

After  this  triumph — the  greatest  of  her  career — it  may 
well  have  been  supposed  that  Mile.  Dumesnil  was  des- 
tined to  maintain  her  supremacy  for  many  years  to  come. 
Nevertheless,  ere  six  months  had  passed,  she  found  her 
proud  position  challenged  by  a  most  formidable  rival. 

Claire  Joseph  Lerys — for  that  was  the  name  of  this 
rival,  and  of  the  greatest,  or,  at  least,  the  most  celebrated 
tragic  actress  of  the  eighteenth  century,  though  she 
styled  herself  Claire  Jostyhe  Hippolyte  Lerys  de  Latude- 
Clairori)  and  is  known  to  fame  under  the  last  of  these 
names — was  born  at  Cond6,  a  little  town  of  Hainaut,  on 
January  25,  1723.  Her  father  was  one  Fran9ois  Joseph 
Desir6  Lerys,  a  sergeant  in  the  Regiment  de  Mailly  ; 
her  mother,  a  working-woman,  Marie  Claire  Scanapiecq 
by  name ;  and  she  was  a  natural  child,  a  fact  which  she 
omits  to  mention  in  the  French  edition  of  her  Mdmoires, 
though  she  is  more  candid  in  the  German  edition.2 

The  circumstances  attending  her  birth,  which  she 
has  herself  recounted,  were,  it  must  be  admitted,  highly 
significant  of  her  future  career  : — 

"  It  was  the  custom  of  the  little  town  in  which  I 
was  born  for  all  persons  to  assemble  during  the  carnival 
time  at  the  houses  of  the  wealthiest  citizens,  in  order  to 

1  Hawkins,  "The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  i.  355. 

2  Edmund  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  p.  4. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  277 

pass  the  entire  day  in  dancing  and  other  amusements. 
Far  from  disapproving  of  these  recreations,  the  cure 
partook  of  them  and  travestied  himself  with  the  rest. 
During  one  of  the  f£te  days,  my  mother,  who  was  but 
seven  months  advanced  in  pregnancy,  suddenly  brought 
me  into  the  world,  between  two  and  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  I  was  so  feeble  that  every  one  imagined  a 
few  moments  would  terminate  my  career.  My  grand- 
mother, a  woman  of  eminent  piety,  was  anxious  that 
I  should  be  carried  out  at  once  to  the  church,  in  order 
that  I  might  there  receive  the  rite  of  baptism.  Not 
a  living  soul  was  to  be  discovered  either  at  the  church  or 
at  the  cure's  house.  A  neighbour  having  informed  the 
party  that  all  the  town  was  at  a  carnival  entertainment 
at  the  house  of  a  certain  wealthy  citizen,  thither  was  I 
carried  with  all  expedition.  Monsieur  le  Cure,  attired 
as  Arlequin,  and  his  vicar,  disguised  as  Gille,  imagining, 
from  my  appearance,  that  there  was  not  a  moment  to  be 
lost,  hurriedly  arranged  upon  a  sideboard  everything  neces- 
sary for  the  ceremony,  stopped  the  fiddle  for  a  moment, 
muttered  over  me  the  consecrated  words,  and  sent  me 
back  to  my  mother  a  Christian — at  least  in  name."  l 

When  the  little  girl  was  twelve  years  old,  she  and 
her  mother  left  Conde,  and,  after  a  short  stay  at  Valen- 
ciennes, settled  in  Paris,  where  the  latter  found  employ- 
ment as  a  sempstress.  The  future  queen  of  tragedy  was 
at  this  time,  according  to  her  own  account,  a  delicate, 
sensitive  child,  with  a  confirmed  dislike  to  needlework, 
in  consequence  of  which  she  spent  the  greater  part  of 
her  days  "  trembling  beneath  the  blows  and  threats  of 
her  mother,"  whom  she  describes,  rather  undutifully,  as 
"  a  violent,  ignorant,  and  superstitious  woman." 

1  Memoircs  de  Mademoiselle  C/airon  (edit.  1799),  p.  235. 


278      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

However,  at  length  Fate  took  pity  on  her.  Her 
mother,  yielding  to  the  remonstrances  of  the  neighbours, 
who  had  been  "  affected  by  the  appearance  of  languor  to 
which  her  misfortunes  had  reduced  her,  and  her  beauty, 
voice,  intelligence,  and  the  sweetness  of  her  temper 
when  she  was  not  forced  to  work  at  the  needle,"  ceased 
to  belabour  her,  and,  by  way  of  punishment,  took  to 
shutting  her  up  in  a  room  overlooking  the  street. 
Now,  it  happened  that  the  house  immediately  opposite 
the  Scanapiecqs  was  occupied  by  the  mother  of  Mile. 
Dangeville,  the  famous  soubrette  of  the  Comedie-Fran- 
9aise,  and,  one  day,  little  Claire,  having  mounted  a  chair 
to  survey  the  neighbourhood,  beheld  the  idol  of  the  pit 
taking  a  dancing-lesson  in  the  midst  of  an  admiring 
circle  of  relatives  and  friends.  "  She  was  distinguished," 
she  tells  us,  "  for  every  charm  which  Nature  and  youth 
could  unite  in  the  same  person.  My  very  being  came 
into  my  eyes ;  not  one  of  her  movements  escaped  me. 
She  was  surrounded  by  her  family,  and  when  the  lesson 
was  over,  every  one  applauded  her,  while  her  mother 
embraced  her.  The  difference  between  her  condition 
and  my  own  penetrated  me  with  the  deepest  grief;  my 
tears  would  not  permit  me  to  see  anything  more.  I 
descended  from  my  chair,  and,  when  the  throbbing  of  my 
heart  had  subsided  sufficiently  for  me  to  remount  it,  all 
had  disappeared."  l 

From  that  day,  little  Claire  had  only  one  desire  :  to  be 
placed  en  penitence  at  the  hour  at  which  Mile.  Dangeville 
was  in  the  habit  of  taking  her  lesson ;  and,  the  moment 
she  was  alone,  she  would  climb  to  her  perch  and  remain 
there,  a  motionless  and  silent,  but  enthusiastic  spectator 
of  the  movements  of  her  fair  neighbour.  Soon,  at  first 

1   Memoircs  de  Mademoiselle  C/airon,  p.  1 66  et  seq. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  279 

almost  unconsciously,  the  girl  began  to  imitate  what  she 
had  seen,  and  with  such  success  that  those  who  came  to 
her  mother's  house  thought  that  she  had  been  provided 
with  masters.  "  My  manner  of  entering  a  room,"  she 
says,  "  of  saluting  the  company,  of  seating  myself,  was 
no  longer  the  same ;  and  the  improvement  I  had  ac- 
quired, added  to  the  graces  of  my  deportment,  obtained 
for  me  even  the  favour  of  my  mother." 

At  length,  unable  any  longer  to  keep  her  secret  to 
herself,  and  seized  with  an  intense  curiosity  to  ascertain 
who  this  wonderful  Mile.  Dangeville  might  be,  she 
decided  to  take  into  her  confidence  one  of  her  mother's 
friends,  who  had  always  treated  her  a  little  less  as  a  child 
than  the  majority  of  visitors  to  the  house.  This  proved 
a  fortunate  step,  for  the  person  in  question,  pleased  with 
the  little  girl's  intelligence,  not  only  gave  her  a  good 
deal  of  information  about  Mile.  Dangeville  and  the  pro- 
fession which  she  adorned,  but  obtained  from  her  mother 
— not  without  considerable  difficulty,  for  the  sempstress 
"  saw  in  theatrical  performances  only  the  road  to  eternal 
damnation " — permission  to  take  her  to  the  Comedie- 
Fran9aise  to  witness  a  representation  of  the  Comte  #  Essex 
and  Les  Folies  amoureuses. 

Mile.  Clairon,  in  her  Mtmoires,  confesses  her  inability 
to  give  any  account  of  that  never-to-be-forgotten  evening. 
She  only  recollects  that,  during  the  whole  of  the  per- 
formance, her  absorption  was  such  as  to  prevent  her 
uttering  a  single  word,  and  that,  on  returning  home,  she 
neither  saw  nor  heard  any  one.  Angrily  dismissed  to 
her  room  by  her  mother,  instead  of  going  to  sleep,  she 
spent  the  whole  night  in  recalling  and  repeating  every- 
thing that  had  been  said  by  the  performers  at  the 
theatre,  and  every  one  was  astonished  the  next  day  tc 


280      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

hear  her  repeat,  with  scarcely  a  mistake,  a  hundred 
verses  of  the  tragedy  and  two-thirds  of  the  after-piece. 
But  this  feat  of  memory  was  less  surprising  than  the 
extraordinary  way  in  which  the  little  girl  had  contrived 
to  assimilate  the  peculiarities  of  every  actor  whom  she 
had  seen.  She  lisped  like  Grandval,  she  stammered  like 
Poisson,  she  mimicked  to  a  nicety  the  coquettish  airs  of 
Mile.  Dangeville,  and  the  cold  and  dignified  manner 
of  Mile.  Balicourt ; l  in  short,  she  tells  us,  she  was 
looked  upon  as  a  prodigy  by  every  one,  save  her  mother, 
who,  frowning  angrily,  declared  that  she  would  rather 
see  her  make  a  gown  or  a  petticoat  than  waste  her  time 
over  such  unprofitable  nonsense.  Claire,  however,  forti- 
fied by  the  praises  which  she  had  received,  boldly  de- 
clared her  intention  of  becoming  an  actress,  and,  when 
the  enraged  sempstress  threatened  to  starve  her  into 
submission,  or  "  break  her  arms  and  legs,"  retorted, 
with  the  air  of  a  tragedy  queen :  "  Ah,  well !  you  had 
better  kill  me  at  once,  since  otherwise  I  am  determined 
to  go  upon  the  stage." 

Marie  Scanapiecq  did  not,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
remark,  attempt  to  put  her  threats  into  execution ; 
nevertheless,  for  some  two  months,  she  subjected  her 
unfortunate  little  daughter  to  a  course  of  such  rigorous 
discipline,  in  the  hope  of  breaking  her  spirit,  that 
Claire's  health  became  seriously  affected.  Then  the 
stern  mother  began  to  relent,  and,  on  the  advice  of  one 
of  her  customers,  to  whom  she  had  confided  her  trouble, 
finally  decided  to  let  the  girl  have  her  way,  and  took 

1  Mile.  Balicourt  played  queens  and  princesses,  and  had  probably 
impersonated  the  Queen  Elizabeth  of  Thomas  Corneille's  play  on  the 
evening  when  Clairon  visited  the  Comedie.  She  made  her  debut  in 
1727,  and  retired  in  1738,  on  account  of  ill-health. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  281 

her  to  see  the  lady  in  question,  who  had  promised  to 
use  her  influence  to  further  her  ambitions.  The  lady 
presented  Claire  to  Desheys,  a  prominent  actor  of  the 
Comedie-Italienne,  who  was  so  favourably  impressed  with 
the  little  aspirant's  abilities  that  he  presented  her,  in 
his  turn,  to  his  colleagues,  and,  after  a  course  of  instruc- 
tion in  dancing  and  music,  she  made  her  debut  at  the 
"  Italians"  on  January  8,  1736,  in  a  small  part  in  Mari- 
vaux's  Isle  des  Esclaves,  under  the  name  of  Clairon,  a 
variation  of  her  Christian  name  of  Claire. 

Although  not  yet  thirteen,  she  appears  to  have 
acquitted  herself  with  credit,  while  the  progress  she  made 
in  her  profession  was  remarkable.  "  My  industry,  my 
enthusiasm,  my  memory,"  says  the  actress,  "  confounded 
my  instructors.  I  retained  everything,  I  devoured  every- 
thing." Nevertheless,  whether  on  account  of  her  youth, 
her  diminutive  stature — she  was  very  short,  even  for  her 
age — or,  more  probably,  because  her  precocious  talents 
had  excited  the  apprehensions  of  the  famous  Arlequin, 
Thomassin,  who  had  daughters  of  his  own  to  bring  for- 
ward, she  did  not  remain  long  at  the  Comedie-Italienne, 
and,  at  the  end  of  a  year,  found  herself  obliged  to  seek 
her  fortune  in  the  provinces. 

It  was  to  Rouen  that  she  went — Rouen,  the  nursery 
of  the  Paris  theatres — Rouen,  which  had  witnessed  the 
first  efforts  of  Marie  dc  Champmesle,  whose  triumphs 
in  tragedy  this  young  girl  was  one  day  to  eclipse.  The 
principal  theatre  there  was  at  this  time  under  the  joint- 
management  of  La  Noue,  author  of  La  Coquette  corrigee^ 
and  Mile.  Gautier,  both,  in  after  years,  prominent  mem- 
bers of  the  Comedie-Fran9aise ;  and  Mile.  Clairon  was 
engaged  to  dance  in  the  ballet,  sing  in  comic  opera,  and 
act  in  a  few  parts  suited  to  her  age,  at  a  salary  of 


282      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

100  pistoles,  or  about  1000  livres.  As  some  compen- 
sation for  this  meagre  remuneration,  Marie  Scanapiecq, 
who  had  accompanied  her  daughter,  and  whose  views 
with  regard  to  the  morality  of  dramatic  performances 
had  undergone  a  most  surprising  alteration  since  she 
had  discovered  that  there  was  money  to  be  made,  was 
installed  superintendent  of  the  box-office. 

At  Rouen,  little  Clairon  soon  became  a  general 
favourite,  and  improved  so  rapidly  in  her  acting  that,  by 
the  time  she  was  sixteen,  she  was  pronounced  to  be  the 
most  charming  soubrette  the  Norman  capital  had  ever 
possessed.  The  Rouen  ladies  were  very  far  from  sharing 
the  prejudices  of  most  provincial  dames,  who  believed 
themselves  degraded  if  they  so  much  as  spoke  to  an 
actress,  and  the  girl  was  invited  everywhere.  A  certain 
Madame  de  Bimorel,  wife  of  a  president  of  the  Parlia- 
ment of  Normandy,  and  an  old  flame  of  the  poet 
Fontenelle,  was  particularly  kind,  and  remained  her  firm 
friend  for  more  than  forty  years. 

A  gay  town  was  Rouen  in  those  days ;  a  place  where 
a  young  and  pretty  actress  could  count  on  receiving 
almost  as  much  admiration  as  in  the  capital  itself.  At 
the  theatre  they  still  talked  of  the  cause  ctttbre  arising 
out  of  an  affray  between  the  Marquis  de  Cony  and  the 
President  de  Folleville,  which  had  taken  place  some 
years  before ;  how  the  marquis,  encountering  the  presi- 
dent at  the  house  of  a  certain  danseuse  whose  heart 
he  had  until  that  moment  fondly  imagined  to  be  his 
alone,  had  addressed  him  by  an  opprobrious  name ;  how 
the  president  had  retorted  by  a  blow  directed  at  the  nose 
of  the  marquis,  and  how  the  infuriated  nobleman  had 
thereupon  thrown  his  adversary  into  the  fireplace,  with 
such  violence  as  to  incapacitate  him  from  administering 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  283 

justice  for  many  a  long  day  to  come.  Whence  arose  the 
lawsuit  in  question,  bringing  with  it  much  glory  and 
fame  for  the  damsel  who  had  been  the  cause  of  the 
dispute  and  the  profession  in  general. 

As  was  only  to  be  expected,  the  charming  imper- 
sonator of  soubrettes  had  no  lack  of  adorers,  and  she  is 
reported  to  have  been  not  altogether  insensible  to  the 
devotion  of  a  M.  du  Rouvray,  a  handsome  youth  of 
good  family,  whom  she  met  at  Madame  de  Bimorel's 
house,  and  to  the  more  business-like  attentions  of  a  cer- 
tain rich  merchant,  named  Dubuisson.  She  had  also  a 
third  soupirant,  whose  passion  was  to  occasion  her  much 
tribulation. 

Following  the  example  of  many  actresses'  mothers 
at  this  period,  Marie  Scanapiecq,  "  whose  rigid  morals," 
says  her  dutiful  daughter,  "  were  now  discarded  for 
gaiety  and  pleasure,  and  who  spoke  of  her  former  mode 
of  life  with  derision,"  had  converted  her  house  at  Rouen 
into  a  kind  of  pension,  where  gambling  and  even  more 
questionable  practices  were  freely  permitted,  if  not 
actually  encouraged.  Among  those  who  frequented  the 
establishment  was  an  actor  named  Gaillard  de  la  Bataille, 
"  a  poor,  rather  amusing  devil,"  who  possessed  that 
almost  indispensable  qualification  for  a  vainqueur  de  dames 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  the  art  of  celebrating  their 
charms  in  verse.  To  Mile.  Clairon  he  consecrated  his 
muse,  and  every  day  chanted  her  praises  in  couplet  or  in 
quatrain,  wherein  he  vowed  that  Venus  and  Vesta  were 
unworthy  to  be  compared  with  this  adorable,  this  divine 
young  actress.  But  alas !  he  was  not  content  with  this 
innocent  homage ;  he  dared  to  love  her,  "  and  all  the 
while  that  he  extolled  her  charms  and  her  virtue,  plotted 
to  possess  himself  of  the  first  and  to  destroy  the  other." 


284      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

One  summer  morning,  when  her  mother  happened  to 
be  away  from  home,  Mile.  Clairon  was  studying  her  part 
in  bed,  all  unconscious  of  evil.  Suddenly  the  door  flew 
open,  and  her  lovelorn  poet,  who  had  bribed  one  of  the 
servants  of  the  house  to  admit  him,  appeared  upon  the 
threshold,  and,  casting  himself  on  his  knees  before  her, 
besought  her,  in  impassioned  accents,  to  reciprocate  the 
flame  which  was  devouring  him.  His  divinity's  only 
response  to  this  appeal  was  to  call  loudly  for  assistance ; 
servants  and  lodgers,  alarmed  by  her  cries,  were  quickly 
on  the  scene,  and  "  with  brooms  and  shovels  drove  the 
wretch  into  the  street."  "  When  my  mother  returned 
home,"  continues  the  actress,  "  it  was  resolved  that  we 
should  lodge  a  complaint  against  him ;  he  was  repri- 
manded by  the  magistrate,  had  ballads  made  about  him, 
and  was  for  ever  banished  our  house.  But  rage  suc- 
ceeded to  his  love  and  his  desires,  and  he  composed 
that  atrocious  libel  which  has  been  read  all  over 
Europe." 

Gaillard  did  indeed  take  a  cruel  revenge  for  the 
ignominious  treatment  he  had  received,  for  his  pamphlet, 
which  was  entitled  Histoire  de  Mademoiselle  Cronel,  dite 
Fretillon,  actrice  de  la  Comedie  de  Rouen,  ecrite  par  elle- 
meme^  aided  by  the  subsequent  celebrity  of  its  victim, 
ran  through  several  editions,  and  the  sobriquet  "  Fr6- 
tillon "  stuck  to  her  for  life.  Mile.  Clairon  was  at 
Havre  when  the  libel  appeared,  and  "  her  anguish  was 
beyond  all  power  of  expression."  She  returned  to 
Rouen  in  fear  and  trembling,  "  imagining  that  every 
door  would  be  barred  against  her,  and  not  daring  to 
look  any  one  in  the  face."  However,  the  play-loving 
Rouennais,  who  were  very  indulgent  towards  the  moral 
failings  of  the  ladies  of  the  theatre,  appear  to  have  been 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  285 

more  diverted  than  scandalised,  and  she  "  found  the 
same  public  and  the  same  friends." 

Soon,  however,  trouble  arose  in  another  quarter. 
The  troupe  of  La  Noue  and  Mile.  Gautier,  driven  from 
Rouen  by  the  competition  of  an  opera  company,  went 
to  try  its  fortune  in  Flanders.  Mile.  Clairon's  mother 
accompanied  her,  and,  while  the  troupe  was  performing 
at  Lille,  took  advantage  of  the  fact  of  her  daughter 
being  now  separated  from  Madame  de  Bimorel  and  her 
other  friends,  to  endeavour  to  coerce  her  into  a  marriage 
with  one  of  her  comrades,  whom  the  girl  cordially 
detested.  In  a  curious  passage  in  her  MJmoirts,  Mile. 
Clairon  attributes  to  this  persecution  the  loss  of  her 
innocence : — 

"  The  orders  of  my  mother,  her  violence,  which  she 
carried  so  far  as  to  present  a  pistol  to  me,  in  order  to 
obtain  my  consent,  made  me  at  last  sensible  of  the 
necessity  of  having  a  protector,  who,  without  appealing 
to  the  laws,  might  be  able  to  restrain  those  about  me 
and  defend  me  against  them.  Actuated  by  despair 
alone,  without  any  base,  mercenary  motive,  without  love, 
without  desires,  I  offered  and  surrendered  myself,  on 
the  sole  condition  of  being  protected  from  the  marriage 
and  death  that  threatened  me  at  the  same  time.  That 
moment,  which,  at  first  sight,  conveys  only  an  impres- 
sion of  licentiousness,  is  perhaps  the  most  noble,  the 
most  interesting,  the  most  striking  of  my  life." 

Unhappily,  the  sympathy  which  this  passage  might 
otherwise  arouse  in  the  lady's  readers  is  somewhat  dis- 
counted by  the  perusal  of  the  following  extract  from  an 
official  report  which  the  police-inspector,  La  Janiere,  sent 
to  Berryer,  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  some  years  later, 
from  which  it  appears  that  so  violent  and  persistent  was 


286      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

the  persecution  to  which  the  unfortunate  young  actress 
was  subjected  by  her  mother  and  her  unwelcome  admirer, 
that  not  one,  but  three  protectors  were  necessary  for  her 
safety : — 

"After  some  years,  having  accepted  an  engagement 
with  the  director  of  the  theatre  at  Lille,  she  (Clairon) 
appeared  on  the  stage  in  that  town,  and  did  not  remain 
long  without  making  conquests.  The  Comte  de 
Bergheick,  colonel  of  the  Regiment  Royal- Wallon,  the 
Chevalier  de  By,  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  same  regi- 
ment, and  M.  Desplace,  major  of  cavalry,  were  her  three 
chief  protectors. 

"  People  are  at  first  alarmed  at  the  sight  of  three 
rival  warriors  contending  for  the  heart  of  this  girl,  but 
let  them  be  reassured,  everything  will  pass  off  tranquilly. 
The  Clairon  was  a  careful  girl,  and,  besides,  adroit 
enough  to  keep  in  play  half-a-dozen  lovers.  Thus 
everything  worked  smoothly,  and  all  were  satisfied." l 

In  the  spring  of  1742,  La  Noue,  whose  tenancy  of 
the  Rouen  theatre  had  not  been  attended  with  the  suc- 
cess he  had  anticipated,  and  whom  the  outbreak  of  the 
Austrian  Succession  War  had  compelled  to  relinquish  a 
project  of  taking  a  company  to  Berlin,  returned  to  Paris, 
to  make  his  d&but  at  the  Comedie-Fran9aise.  His  troupe 
was  in  consequence  dispersed,  and  Mile.  Clairon,  finding 
herself  without  employment,  joined  a  travelling  company 
which  had  been  engaged  to  perform  at  Ghent,  then  the 
headquarters  of  the  English  army.  Here,  she  tells  us, 

1   Ravaisson,  Archives  de  la  Bastille,  xii.  348. 

"  Mile.  Clairon  contrived,  during  the  early  part  of  her  career,  to 
have  three  lovers  at  a  time  constantly  in  her  train — one  whom  she 
deceived,  one  whom  she  received  a  la  derobee,  and  one  who  lived  on 
sighs." — "Memoirs  of  the  Margravine  of  Anspach,"  i.  220. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  287 

she  was  received  with  enthusiastic  applause,  and  "  my 
lord "  Marlborough J  laid  his  immense  fortune  at  her 
feet.  But  Mile.  Clairon  was,  above  all  things,  a  patriot, 
and  "  my  lord  "  and  his  immense  fortune  had  no  attrac- 
tions for  her.  "  The  contempt  which  the  English  nation 
affected  for  mine,"  she  says,  "  rendered  every  individual 
belonging  to  it  insupportable  to  me.  It  was  impossible 
for  me  to  listen  to  them  without  expressing  my  dislike." 
So  strong  indeed  was  her  aversion  to  the  enemies  of  her 
country  that  it  was  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that 
she  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  contribute  to  their  enter- 
tainment. Finally,  she  could  endure  the  situation  no 
longer,  and,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  her  comrades  to 
detain  her,  procured  a  passport  and  escaped  to  Dun- 
querque. 

After  a  short  stay  at  Dunquerque,  Mile.  Clairon  pro- 
ceeded to  Paris.  According  to  her  own  account,  she 
had  while  there  received  an  order  from  the  Gentlemen 
of  the  Chamber  directing  her  to  make  her  dtbut  at  the 
Opera.  From  La  Janiere's  report,  however,  it  appears 
that  "  conscious  that  her  talents  were  too  sublime  for 
the  provinces,  and  that  she  was  destined  to  shine  in  a 
greater  sphere,"  she  came  on  her  own  initiative  to  the 
capital,  where  she  was  for  some  months  without  employ- 
ment. Ultimately,  continues  the  report,  she  "  accepted 
the  propositions"  of  the  wealthy  farmer-general,  La 
Popeliniere,  who  posed  as  a  patron  of  the  arts,  and, 
through  his  influence,  mounted  the  stage  of  the  Palais- 
Royal. 

1  Charles  Spencer,  third  Duke  of  Marlborough,  and  fifth  Earl  of 
Sunderland  (1706-1758).  He  was,  at  this  time,  colonel  of  the  28th 
Foot,  and,  the  following  year,  commanded  a  brigade  at  the  battle  of 
Dettingen.  The  name  is  written  Mar  *  *  *  in  the  French  edition  of 
Mile.  Clairon's  Memoirs,  but  in  full  in  the  German. 


288      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

However  that  may  be,  to  the  Opera  she  was 
admitted,  and  there,  in  March  1743,  made  her  d&but 
in  the  role  of  Venus,  in  Hhione.  In  her  Mtmoires,  she 
admits  that  though  she  had  "  a  prodigious  extent  of 
voice,"  she  was  but  an  indifferent  musician,  and  not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  the  Mercure  of  the  following 
May  contained  a  poem  in  which  the  writer  declared  that, 
so  long  as  Clairon  remained  on  earth,  he  was  content 
to  renounce  his  hopes  of  Heaven,  her  reception  by  the 
public  seems  to  have  left  a  good  deal  to  be  desired. 
We  also  gather  that  she  was  dissatisfied  with  the  treat- 
ment she  received  from  her  colleagues — a  fact  which  can 
hardly  occasion  surprise  if  there  be  any  truth  in  the 
story  that,  immediately  upon  entering  the  Opera,  she 
had  publicly  announced  her  intention  of  soundly  boxing 
the  ears  of  any  lady  who  dared  to  address  her  by  the 
odious  name  of  "  Fr£tillon," — and  soon  determined  to 
seek  fame  and  fortune  on  another  stage.  "  I  had,"  she 
says,  "  the  good  fortune  to  succeed,  but  I  found  that 
so  little  talent  was  required  in  this  theatre,  in  order  to 
appear  possessed  of  the  highest  abilities,  there  seemed 
to  me  to  be  so  little  merit  in  merely  following  the 
modulations  of  the  musicians,  the  manners  of  the  per- 
formers were  so  distasteful  to  me,  and  the  smallness  of 
the  salary  was  so  absolutely  degrading,  that,  at  the  end 
of  four  months,  I  signified  my  intention  of  resigning." 

From  the  Opera,  Mile.  Clairon  passed  to  the 
Com£die-Fran5aise,  but  not  without  encountering  many 
obstacles  by  the  way.  Virtue  counted  for  very  little  at 
the  Academic  Royale  de  Musique,  except  as  a  market- 
able commodity ;  it  counted  for  a  very  great  deal  among 
the  ComMiens  du  Roi,  or  rather  they  chose  to  pretend 
that  it  did,  which  came  to  much  the  same  thing  where 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  289 

the  admission  of  a  damsel  of  questionable  reputation 
was  concerned.  Led  by  her  old  employer,  La  Noue, 
and  Mile.  Gaussin,  several  members  of  the  troupe  banded 
themselves  together  to  oppose  the  admission  of  the  now 
notorious  "Fretillon"  by  every  means  in  their  power. 
The  latter,  on  her  side,  did  not  lack  for  supporters,  and, 
for  some  weeks,  a  war  of  pamphlets  raged,  in  which 
the  characters  of  the  different  combatants  were  torn  to 
shreds,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  town.  Finally,  the 
King's  new  mistress,  Madame  de  Chateauroux,  and  her 
sister,  Madame  de  Lauraguais,  intervened  on  behalf  of 
the  young  actress,  who  made  so  favourable  an  impression 
upon  the  old  Due  de  Gesvres,  at  an  interview  which,  in 
his  capacity  as  First  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber,  he  had 
very  reluctantly  accorded  her,  that,  a  few  days  later,  she 
received  the  coveted  ordre  de  debut:  — 

"  We,  Due  de  Gesvres,  pair  de  France,  First  Gentle- 
man of  the  King's  Chamber,  direct  the  troupe  of  his 
Majesty's  French  players  to  cause  the  demoiselle  Clairon 
to  forthwith  make  her  debut,  in  order  that  we  may  be 
able  to  judge  of  her  abilities  as  an  actress. 

"(Signed)     THE  Due  DE  GESVRES. 

"  Executed  at  Versailles,  September  IO, 


In  the  provinces,  Mile.  Clairon's  emploi  had  been  that 
of  a  soubrette,  and  her  experience  of  tragedy  was  as  yet 
very  slight  ;  for,  though  she  was  'acquainted  with  some 
half-dozen  of  the  leading  tragic  roles,  she  had  never 
played  any  of  them  more  than  twice.  The  semainiers, 
as  a  number  of  players  who  governed  the  Comedie  in 
rotation  were  called,  were,  therefore,  not  a  little  sur- 

1  Cited  by  Campardon,  Let  Comedicns  du  Rot  de  la  Troupe  fran^aise. 

T 


290      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

prised  when  the  young  lady  informed  them  that  it  was 
her  intention  to  make  her  first  appearance  as  a  votary 
of  Melpomene.  But  their  surprise  gave  way  to  pro- 
found astonishment,  when,  after  they  had  consented  and 
suggested  to  her  the  parts  of  Constance  in  Ines  de  Castro 
or  Aricie  in  Phedre^  the  debutante  replied,  with  a  smile  of 
disdain,  that  such  parts  were  too  small  for  her,  and  that 
it  was  her  wish  to  play  Phedre  herself — Phedre,  the  most 
difficult  character  in  the  whole  tragic  repertoire ;  Phedre, 
one  of  the  most  celebrated  roles  of  Mile.  Dumesnil ! 

"  My  proposal,"  she  tells  us,  "  made  every  one  smile  ; 
they  assured  me  that  the  public  would  not  suffer  me 
to  finish  the  first  act.  I  became  hot  with  indignation, 
but  pride  sustained  me,  and  I  replied  as  quietly  and  as 
majestically  as  I  could :  "  Messieurs,  you  will  allow  me 
to  play  it,  or  you  will  not.  I  have  the  right  to  make 
my  choice.  I  will  either  play  Phedre  or  nothing." 

In  the  end,  she  was  permitted  to  have  her  way. 
According  to  her  own  account,  she  disdained  to  rehearse 
her  part,  and,  on  the  fateful  evening,  September  19,  1743, 
did  not  arrive  at  the  theatre  until  just  before  the  curtain 
rose.  The  house  was  crowded,  chiefly  with  persons  who 
had  come  thither  in  the  confident  anticipation  of  enjoying 
a  hearty  laugh  at  what  they  were  pleased  to  consider 
the  absurd  pretensions  of  little  "  Fr£tillon."  They  came 
to  laugh  and  perhaps  to  hiss  ;  they  remained  to  applaud, 
and  to  applaud  enthusiastically,  for,  long  before  the  first 
act  was  over,  it  was  apparent  to  all  that  a  great  tragedienne 
was  before  them.  "  It  was  Phedre  herself  in  all  her 
sovereign  splendour,  in  all  the  majesty  of  passion,"  and 
seldom  indeed  has  that  immortal  queen  of  sorrow  met 
with  so  worthy  a  representative.  "The  i9th  of  this 
month,"  says  the  Mercure,  "  the  players  have  revived  at 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  291 

the  theatre  Racine's  tragedy  of  Phedre,  in  which  Mile. 
Clairon,  a  new  actress,  has  made  her  debut.  She  repre- 
sented the  principal  personage  amidst  general  applause. 
She  is  a  young  woman  of  much  intelligence,  who  ex- 
presses with  a  very  charming  voice  the  sentiments  which 
she  has  the  art  to  understand.  One  may  say  that 
Nature  has  lavished  upon  her  talents  of  the  happiest 
order  to  enable  her  to  fill  all  the  characters  suited  to  her 
youth,  the  agreeableness  of  her  person,  and  her  voice." 

A  little  brochure,  entitled  Lettre  a  Madame  la  Mar- 
quise V.  de  G sur  le  debut  de  Mademoiselle  Clairon  a  la 

Comedie-Fran$aise^  supplies  us  with  an  interesting  portrait 
of  the  actress  : — 

"  Mademoiselle  Clairon  is  about  twenty-two  or  twenty- 
three  years  of  age.  She  is  exceedingly  fair ;  her  head  is 
well  set.  Her  eyes  are  fine,  full  of  fire,  and  sparkle 
with  voluptuousness.  Her  mouth  is  furnished  with 
beautiful  teeth ;  her  bosom  is  well  formed.  One  gains 
in  examining  her  a  pleasure  which  the  other  senses  share 
with  the  sight.  Her  figure  is  shapely,  she  carries  her- 
self very  gracefully.  A  modest  and  pleasing  manner 
interests  one  in  her  favour.  Although  she  is  not  a 
finished  beauty,  one  must  resemble  her  to  be  charming. 
Her  wit  is  sparkling,  her  conversation  sweet  and  engaging. 
Musician  and  actress,  lover  of  the  arts  and  their  pupil, 
she  is  qualified  for  everything,  and,  without  making  any 
effort,  she  becomes  naturally  whatever  she  wishes  to  be."  * 

Mile.  Clairon  continued  her  debuts  with  success.  On 
the  following  evening,  she  gave  an  admirable  rendering 
of  the  part  of  Zenobie,  and  this  was  succeeded  by  further 
triumphs  as  Ariane,  Electre,  and  the  Atalide  of  Bajazet. 
She  played  also  several  important  roles  in  comedy,  among 

1  Cited  by  Edmond  de  Goncourt. 


292      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

them  the  Dorine  of  Tartuffe.  But  her  acting  here  was 
distinctly  inferior  to  her  performances  in  tragedy ;  a 
circumstance  which  is  not  a  little  singular  when  we 
remember  that  the  reputation  she  had  brought  with 
her  from  the  provinces  had  been  gained  entirely  in  the 
former  genre.  Possibly,  recognising  that  her  true  voca- 
tion was  tragedy,  she  was  now  somewhat  careless  of  the 
impression  she  might  make  in  other  roles. 

On  October  29,  1743,  an  order  from  the  Due  de 
Gesvres  conferred  on  the  young  debutante  a  demi-part  in 
the  troupe  of  the  Corned ie-Fran9aise.  In  the  following 
December,  she  was  accorded  a  further  quarter  share,  and, 
exactly  a  year  later,  obtained  a  full  part. 

The  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  the  golden 
era  of  the  Comedie-Fransaise.  What  a  galaxy  of  talent 
do  we  find  there  !  Mesdemoiselles  Clairon,  Dumesnil, 
Gaussin,  and  Dangeville ;  Grandval,  Mol£,  Lekain,  Pre- 
ville,  and  Brizard !  Never  before  and  never  since  have 
so  many  celebrated  players  appeared  together  upon  one 
stage.  And  of  this  brilliant  band,  Mile.  Clairon  was 
the  ruler ;  ruling  not  so  much  by  force  of  talent,  for 
Mile.  Dumesnil  had  greater  natural  talent,  nor  by 
beauty,  for  Mile.  Gaussin  was  more  beautiful,  but  by  her 
remarkable  intelligence,  her  unwearying  industry,  and 
her  strength  of  will.  Only  Mile.  Dumesnil  could  com- 
pare with  her  upon  the  stage ;  off  it,  Mile.  Clairon 
reigned  supreme. 

For  nearly  twenty-two  years,  Mile.  Clairon  disputed 
the  dramatic  sceptre  with  her  celebrated  rival,  inferior 
to  the  latter  in  parts  which  required  the  combination  of 
tragic  force  with  pathos  and  tenderness,  but  incomparably 
her  superior  in  characters  of  the  sterner  type,  especially 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  293 

those  into  which  dignity  and  an  element  of  lofty  and  in- 
flexible pride  entered.1  The  methods  of  the  two  great 
actresses  could  hardly  have  been  more  dissimilar.  "  The 
one  was  all  temperament,"  says  Edmond  de  Goncourt, 
"  the  other  all  study  and  art."  Mile.  Dumesnil  fre- 
quently came  upon  the  stage  with  no  very  definite  idea  as 
to  the  tone  or  attitude  she  would  assume  in  certain  pas- 
sages, trusting  to  a  happy  inspiration,  which,  it  must  be 
acknowledged,  seldom  failed  her.2  With  Mile.  Clairon, 
who  made  her  art  the  subject  of  the  most  profound  and 
unremitting  study,  every  tone  and  every  gesture  had 
been  carefully  rehearsed  beforehand,  and  the  character 
elaborated  in  its  minutest  details.  So  numerous  indeed 
were  her  private  rehearsals  that  she  insensibly  carried 
with  her  her  theatrical  air  into  private  life,  and  her 
friends  laughingly  declared  that  she  called  for  her  fan 
and  her  coach  in  the  tone  of  Agrippina,  and  spoke  to 
her  lackey  like  a  queen  addressing  the  captain  of  her 
guards.3  But  this  artificiality  was  so  dexterously  con- 
cealed, she  possessed  in  such  a  supreme  degree  the  art 
of  concealing  art,  so  dignified  and  graceful  were  her 
movements,  and  so  marvellous  her  command  of  facial 
expression,  that  even  the  warmest  admirers  of  Mile. 
Dumesnil  and  her  school  of  acting  and  the  most  captious 
of  critics  were  compelled  to  acknowledge  her  charm,  while 
the  ordinary  playgoer  was  "  transported  with  enthusiasm." 
Tributes  to  her  genius  came  from  all  quarters,  from 
friend  and  foe,  from  her  compatriots  and  from  foreigners 

1  Hawkins,  "  The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  i.  375. 

2  If  Marmontel  and  Bachaumont  are  to  be  believed,  this  inspiration 
was  as  often  as  not  aided  by  wine,  and  a  servant,  glass  and  bottle  in  hand, 
was  always  in  attendance  in  the  wings. 

3  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  Clairony  p.  134. 


294      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

alike.  Voltaire,  when  she  performed  in  his  little  theatre 
at  Ferney,  went  quite  wild  with  enthusiasm,  and  declared 
that,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  had  seen  perfection 
in  any  kind.1  Favart,  though  severely  reprobating  the 
extravagance  of  the  admirers  who  had  medals  struck  in 
the  lady's  honour,2  cherished  for  her  the  most  profound 
admiration.  "  Mile.  Clairon,"  he  writes  to  the  Count 
Durazzo,  "  is  raised  so  rar  above  criticism  by  the  supe- 
riority of  her  talents  that  all  the  remarks  of  the  most 
punctilious  censor  can  but  serve  to  convince  me  that  she 
has  attained  the  last  degree  of  perfection.  It  seems  as  if 
she  owed  only  to  Nature  all  that  she  has  acquired  by 
assiduous  study.  Every  day  we  are  struck  with  some 
new  admiration." 

Colle,  who  disliked  her  heartily,  partly  no  doubt  on 
account  of  her  friendship  with  the  philosophers,  writing 
in  1750,  considers  her  inferior  to  Mile.  Dumesnil  in 
sentimental  scenes,  but  acknowledges  her  immense 
superiority  to  the  latter  "  in  parts  requiring  little  energy 
and  much  dignity,"  such  as  the  heroines  of  Corneille 
and  the  Fulvie  of  Crebil  Ion's  Catilina.  He,  however, 
severely  criticises  her  delivery,  which  he  describes  as 
"  artificial  and  inflated  to  the  last  extreme." 

But,  five  years  later,  when  Mile.  Clairon  had  adopted 
the  more  natural  method  of  speaking  and  acting  of 
which  we  shall  presently  speak,  the  dramatist  is  all 
admiration  : — 

"  I  have  seen  L'Orphelin  [Voltaire's  L'Orphelin  de  la 
Chine],  and  wept  at  the  second  and  fifth  acts.  Mile. 
Clairon  appears  to  merit  even  more  praise  than  she  has 
received.  It  is  the  actress,  and  not  the  play,  that  has 
moved  me.  This  tragedy  is  bad,  and  I  do  not  retract 

1  Seep.  334  infra.  2  See  p.  322  infra. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  295 

a  single  word  of  what  I  have  said  about  it ;  but  the 
actress  is  admirable.  She  improves  every  day  ;  she  is 
ridding  herself  little  by  little  of  her  declamatory  style, 
and  making  great  strides  towards  natural  acting.  If  she 
continues,  she  will  attain  to  the  art  of  the  Lecouvreur. 
The  progress  which  she  has  made  is  too  marked  and 
too  astonishing  for  us  not  to  expect  still  further  im- 
provement ;  perhaps  we  may  even  hope  for  perfection."  l 

The  Reflexions  sur  la  declamation  of  Herault  de 
Sechelles  contain  a  striking  testimony  to  that  wonderful 
command  of  expression,  the  result  of  a  profound  study 
of  physiognomy,  which  enabled  her,  without  opening 
her  lips,  to  convey  to  her  audience  an  exact  impression 
of  the  different  phases  of  emotion  through  which  her 
mind  happened  to  be  passing. 

"  One  day,  Mile.  Clairon  seated  herself  in  an  arm- 
chair, and,  without  uttering  a  single  word,  she  painted, 
with  her  countenance  alone,  all  the  passions  :  hatred,  rage, 
indignation,  indifference,  melancholy,  grief,  love,  pity, 
gaiety.  She  painted  not  only  the  passions  themselves, 
but  all  the  shades  and  differences  which  characterise 
them.  In  terror,  for  example,  she  expressed  dismay, 
fear,  embarrassment,  surprise,  uneasiness.  When  we 
expressed  our  admiration,  she  replied  that  she  had  made 
a  special  study  of  anatomy,  and  knew  what  muscles  it 
was  necessary  to  call  into  play." 

And  listen  to  Oliver  Goldsmith's  tribute,  which 
appeared  in  the  second  number  of  The  Bee : — 

"  Mile.  Clairon,  a  celebrated  actress  at  Paris,  seems 
to  me  the  most  perfect  female  figure  I  have  ever  seen 
on  any  stage.  Her  first  appearance  is  excessively  engag- 
ing ;  she  never  comes  in  staring  round  upon  the  company, 

1  "  Journal  et  Memoir ts"  ii.  33. 


296      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

as  if  she  intended  to  count  the  benefits  of  the  house, 
or,  at  least,  to  see  as  well  as  to  be  seen.  Her  eyes  are 
always  at  first  intently  fixed  upon  the  persons  of  the 
drama,  and  then  she  lifts  them  by  degrees,  with  enchant- 
ing diffidence,  upon  the  spectators.  Her  first  speech, 
or  at  least  the  first  part  of  it,  is  delivered  with  scarce  any 
motion  of  the  arm ;  her  hands  and  her  tongue  never  set 
out  together,  but  one  prepares  for  the  other.  ...  By 
this  simple  beginning,  she  gives  herself  a  power  of  rising 
to  the  passion  of  the  scene.  As  she  proceeds,  every 
gesture,  every  look,  acquires  new  violence  ;  till  at  last, 
transported,  she  fills  the  whole  vehemence  of  the  play 
and  the  whole  idea  of  the  poet.  Her  hands  are  not 
alternately  stretched  out  and  then  drawn  in  again,  as 
with  the  singing  women  at  Sadler's  Wells ;  they  are 
employed  with  graceful  variety,  and  every  moment  please 
with  new  and  unexpected  eloquence.  Add  to  this,  that 
their  motion  is  generally  from  the  shoulder;  she  never 
flourishes  her  hands  while  the  upper  part  of  the  arm 
is  motionless  ;  nor  has  she  the  ridiculous  appearance  as 
if  her  elbows  were  pinned  to  her  hips." 

But  perhaps  the  most  interesting  of  all  eulogies  of 
the  actress  is  contained  in  a  letter  to  Garrick  by  his 
Danish  correspondent,  Sturtz — a  really  masterly  descrip- 
tion, which  suffers  but  little  from  the  fact  of  the  writer 
being  a  foreigner,  and  which  we,  therefore,  need  make 
no  apology  for  producing  at  length  : — 

"  In  such  a  representing  nation,  I  had  a  great  opinion 
of  their  stage,  and  yet  I  was  disappointed.  It  seems  the 
quality  has  forestalled  the  best  parts  for  them  alone,  for 
I  saw  but  an  indifferent  medley  of  plays. 

"There  is,   indeed,   Mme.   Clairon,    standing    alone 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON 

From  an  engraving  by  LAURENT  CARS  and  JACQUES  BEAUVARLET,  after  the 
painting  by  CARLE  VAN  Loo 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  297 

amidst  the  ruins  of  the  Republic,  shooting  for  the  last 
rays  of  a  departing  star.  I  have  gazed  on  her  when 
she  trod  the  stage  as  Queen  of  Carthage,1  worthy  that 
rank  and  above  the  mob  of  queens  ;  she  inspired  every 
sentiment ;  she  displays  every  passion,  and,  I  dare  say, 
she  felt  none  :  all  the  storm  was  on  the  surface,  waves 
ran  high,  and  the  bottom  was  calm  ;  her  despair  and 
her  grief  rose  and  died  at  the  end  of  her  tongue. 

"...  She  goes  through  a  number  of  opposite 
feelings :  soft  melancholy,  despair,  languid  tenderness, 
raving  fury,  scorn,  and  melting  love ;  there  is  not  one 
passion  absent.  She  is  wonderful  in  those  transitions 
where  an  inferior  actress,  from  an  intense  grief,  would, 
at  some  lucky  event,  jump  on  a  sudden  to  a  giddy, 
wanton  joy.  Mme.  Clairon,  though  exulting  at  her 
new-born  hope  that  /Eneas  might  stay,  keeps  always  the 
dark  colour  of  sorrow  ;  when  her  eye  brightens  through 
her  tears,  she  looks,  as  Ossian  expresses  it,  *  like  the 
moon  through  a  watery  cloud.'  Her  characteristic  per- 
fection is  the  scornful,  the  commanding  part ;  then  is 
nobility  spread  about  her  as  a  glory  round  the  head  of 
a  saint ;  and  yet  she  never  puts  off  the  woman  ;  in  the 
midst  of  violent  rage  she  is  always  the  tender  female,  and 
a  nuance  of  love  softens  the  hard  colour  into  harmony. 

"...  Nature  has  done  a  good  deal  in  favour  of 
Madame  Clairon  ;  her  voice  is  melody,  of  a  vast  extent, 
and  capable  of  numberless  inflexions  ;  however,  I  was 
sometimes  unwillingly  disturbed  by  a  disagreeable  shrill 
cry,  rather  expressing  physical  pain.  As  to  her  figure, 
it  is  not  a  very  elegant  one,  her  head  being  rather  too 
big  and  her  whole  person  too  little  ;  and  yet  she  is 
great,  towering  amongst  the  crowd  in  the  height  of 
1  In  Le  Franc  de  Pompignan's  Didon. 


29 8      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

action ; x  so  as  you  see  by  the  enchantment  of  art  a 
colossal  head  of  Jupiter  in  a  cameo  the  size  of  sixpence. 
Were  I  in  a  temper  to  find  fault  with  her,  I  might  men- 
tion her  too  articulate  declamation,  the  cadence  of  every 
motion  ;  but  then  I  might  as  well  charge  Raphael  with 
having  too  carefully  marked  his  contours,  which  are  the 
admiration  and  the  models  of  every  age.  True  it  is 
that  compound  of  excellence  is  a  mere  compound  of  art ; 
were  it  possible  to  note  action,  as  music,  then  she  would 
show  a  fortnight  before  every  mien,  the  measure  of  every 
tone,  the  tension  of  every  march  on  paper.  She  is  else 
quite  free  from  that  disagreeable  tragical  hiccup  so 
epidemical  in  France,  and  so  awkwardly  returning  at  the 
end  of  every  verse  ;  she  never  shakes  so  affectedly  her 
head,  as  some  others,  in  what  you  call  the  graceful  style, 
forsooth  ;  and  she  alone  may  venture  some  bold  strokes, 
which  would  never  do  else  with  so  well-bred,  so  elegant 
an  audience. 

"So  when  she  heard  that  all  was  lost,  that  ^Eneas 
was  gone,  then,  in  the  rage  of  despair,  with  her  two 
hands  across,  she  beat  her  forehead  with  such  a  gloomy, 
death-threatening  look  that  we  all  stood  aghast,  and 
her  cry  raised  horror  in  every  breast.  I  cannot  say  that 
she  killed  herself  well,  though,  but  she  died  well ;  her 
weakening  voice  was  not  a  childish,  whining  tone,  but 
imminent  dissolution  altered  it,  convulsion  raised  it, 

1  Madame  Vestris,  when  a  girl,  was  taken  to  visit  Mile.  Clairon, 
who  appeared  to  her  "  a  little  woman  about  forty  years  of  age,  who  had 
once  been  pretty."  Some  days  later,  she  went  to  the  Comedie-Fran§aise 
to  witness  a  performance  of  Andromaque,  and,  when  she  saw  the  cele- 
brated actress  in  the  part  of  Hermione,  cried  in  astonishment :  "  That 
is  not  Mile.  Clairon  !  "  She  was  assured  that  it  was,  but  flatly  refused 
to  believe,  saying  :  "  See  how  tall  that  actress  is  I  I  have  seen  Mile. 
Clairon  at  her  house  ;  she  is  a  very  little  woman."  It  was  Mile.  Clairon 
none  the  less. — Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  p.  171. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  299 

and  so  it  vanished  into  the  air  as  a  vapour.  There, 
then,  I  have  brought  her  to  the  highest  pitch  of  glory  of 
your  tribe,  self-murder ;  may  she  now  quietly  repose  !  " l 

And  Garrick  replies,  laying  his  finger,  with  unerr- 
ing instinct,  upon  the  one  weak  spot  in  Mile.  Clairon's 
acting  : — 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  about 
'  the  Clairon.'  Your  dissection  of  her  is  as  accurate  as 
if  you  had  opened  her  alive  ;  she  has  everything  that 
art  and  a  good  understanding,  with  great  natural  spirit, 
can  give  her.  But  there  I  fear  (and  I  only  tell  you 
my  fears  and  open  my  soul  to  you)  the  heart  has  none 
of  those  instantaneous  feelings,  that  life-blood,  that  keen 
sensibility,  that  bursts  at  once  from  genius,  and,  like 
electrical  fire,  shoots  through  the  veins,  marrow,  bones, 
and  all,  of  every  spectator.  Madame  Clairon  is  so 
conscious  and  so  certain  of  what  she  can  do,  that  she 
never,  I  believe,  had  the  feelings  of  the  instant  come 
upon  her  unexpectedly ;  but  I  pronounce  that  the 
greatest  strokes  of  genius  have  been  unknown  to  the 
actor  himself  till  circumstances  and  the  warmth  of  the 
scene  has  sprung  the  mine,  as  it  were,  as  much  to  his 
own  surprise  as  to  that  of  the  audience.  Thus  I  make 
a  great  difference  between  a  great  genius  and  a  good 
actor.  The  first  will  always  realise  the  feelings  of  his 
character,  and  be  transported  beyond  himself;  while  the 
other,  with  great  powers  and  good  sense,  will  give  great 
pleasure  to  an  audience,  but  never 

"  *  Pectus  inaniter  angit, 

Irritat,  mulcet,  falsis  terroribus  implet, 
Ut  magus.' 

1  "Private  Correspondence  of  David  Garrick,"  i.  356. 


300      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

"  I  have  with  great  freedom  communicated  my 
ideas  of  acting,  but  you  must  not  betray  me,  my  good 
friend ;  the  Clairon  would  never  forgive  me,  though  I 
called  her  an  excellent  actress,  if  I  did  not  swear  by  all 
the  gods  that  she  was  the  greatest  genius  too."  1 

Space  forbids  us  to  give  more  than  a  brief  account 
of  the  many  triumphs  of  this  superb  tragedienne,  who, 
besides  worthily  sustaining  all  the  chief  characters  of 
the  classic  repertoire,  created  forty-three  roles,  in  not 
one  of  which  did  she  fail  to  uphold  her  reputation, 
while  the  great  majority  were  brilliantly  successful. 
Among  the  former,  she  was  probably  seen  to  most 
advantage  in  Medee — in  which  character  Carle  Van  Loo 
painted  her  in  his  celebrated  portrait — Phedre,  Hermione, 
Zenobie,  Didon,  and  Cleopatre.  Among  the  latter, 
taking  them  in  chronological  order,  should  be  men- 
tioned Arctic  in  the  Denys  le  Tyran  of  Marmontel ; 
Fulvie  in  Crebillon's  Catalina ;  Azema  in  the  Shniramis 
of  Voltaire ;  Electre  in  the  Oreste  of  the  same  writer ; 
Cassandre  in  Chateaubrun's  play,  Les  Troyennes\  Idame 
in  Voltaire's  Orphelin  de  la  Chine  ;  Astarbe  in  the  tragedy 
of  that  name,  by  Colardeau ;  Amenaide  in  the  Tancrede 
of  Voltaire ;  and  Alienor  in  De  Belloy's  Siege  de  Calais, 
during  the  run  of  which  last  play  occurred  the  un- 
fortunate incident  which  led  to  her  retirement  from 
the  stage. 

The  almost  fanatical  admiration  which  Voltaire 
cherished  for  the  actress  was  no  doubt,  in  part,  due 
to  the  fact  that  she  had  contributed  so  largely  to  the 
success  of  his  plays.  If  Colle  is  to  be  believed,  she 
"  made "  his  Orphelin  de  la  Chine,  while  as  the  tender 

1  "Private  Correspondence  of  David  Garrick,"  ii.  359. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  301 

and  fiery  Amena'fde  of  Tancrede  (September  3,  1760), 
she  appears  to  have  held  the  audience  absolutely 
enthralled.  "  Ah !  mon  cher  maitre"  writes  Diderot 
to  the  exile  of  Ferney,  "  if  you  could  see  her  crossing 
the  stage,  half-leaning  upon  the  executioners  who  sur- 
round her,  her  knees  giving  way  beneath  her,  her  eyes 
closed,  her  arms  hanging  down,  as  though  in  death  ; 
if  you  could  hear  her  cry  on  recognising  Tancrede,  you 
would  be  convinced,  more  than  ever,  that  silence  and 
pantomime  have  sometimes  a  pathos  which  all  the 
resources  of  oratory  cannot  attain.  Open  your  port- 
folios and  look  at  Poussin's  Esther  paraissant  devant 
FAssuerus :  it  is  Clairon  on  her  way  to  execution." l 

The  Mercure — the  staid  Mercure,  so  chary  of  its 
praise — can  find  no  word  to  describe  her  acting  but 
that  of  sublime.  The  advocate  Barbier,  voicing  the 
opinion  of  the  average  playgoer,  declares  that  "  Mile. 
Clairon  carried  the  talent  of  tragic  declamation  to  a 
point  which  had  never  been  witnessed  before "  ;  while 
d'Alembert  writes :  "  Mile.  Clairon  has  been  incompar- 
able and  beyond  anything  that  she  has  yet  attained  to." 

To  the  great  disappointment  of  the  public,  the  health 
of  Mile.  Clairon  necessitated  the  temporary  withdrawal 
of  the  play  after  the  thirteenth  performance,  and,  when 
it  was  revived  in  the  following  January,  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  it  was  received  was  almost  indescribable. 

Simultaneously  with  her  celebrity  as  an  actress, 
Mile.  Clairon  enjoyed  a  celebrity  of  another,  and  far 
less  enviable,  kind.  "  Love,"  she  remarks,  in  her 
Memoires,  "  is  one  of  Nature's  needs ;  and  I  satisfied 
it."  She  did  indeed.  "  Hardly  had  she  appeared  on 

1  Cited  by  Adolphe  Jullien,  L'Histoire  du  costume  au  Theatre. 


302      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

the  [Paris]  stage,"  writes  La  Janiere  to  the  Lieutenant 
of  Police,  in  the  report  to  which  we  have  already  had 
occasion  to  refer,  "  than  every  one  began  to  fight  for 
her,  and  the  crowd  of  lovers  was  so  great  that,  in  spite 
of  her  inclination  towards  gallantry,  she  was  embarrassed 
to  choose  among  them."  There  were  princes  and  dukes  ; 
there  were  marquises,  and  barons,  and  counts;  there  were 
impecunious  chevaliers  and  wealthy  farmer-generals;  there 
were  dashing  cavalry-officers  and  sober  presidents  of  the 
Parliament ;  there  were  actors  and  men  of  letters.  And 
few  indeed — that  is  to  say,  few  who  possessed  any  pass- 
port to  her  favour :  high  rank,  a  handsome  presence, 
a  pretty  wit,  or,  best  of  all,  a  well-lined  purse  and 
a  disposition  to  empty  it  at  her  feet,1  seemed  to  have 
sighed  in  vain. 

Poor  M.  de  la  Popeliniere,  to  whose  good  offices 
Mile.  Clairon  had  owed  her  admission  to  the  Opera, 
did  not  long  retain  his  proud  position  of  amant  en  titre. 
He  was  speedily  abandoned  for  the  Prince  de  Soubise, 
who,  however,  was  only  accorded  a  fourth  share  of  the 
lady's  heart,  the  remainder  of  that  priceless  organ  being 
divided  between  three  other  high  and  puissant  seigneurs, 
the  Dues  de  Luxembourg  and  de  Bouteville  and  the 
Marquis  de  Bissy.  Next  Mile,  de  Camargo's  old  lover, 
the  President  de  Rieux,  succeeded  in  securing  a  monopoly 
of  the  tragedienne'* s  affections,  only  to  lose  them,  however, 
the  moment  he  showed  a  disinclination  to  loosen  his 
purse-strings.  Then  came  an  assortment  of  admirers, 
drawn  from  the  nobility,  the  Parliament,  financial  circles, 
the  stage,  the  army,  and  foreign  visitors  to  Paris,  and 

1  In  her  Memoires,  Mile.  Clairon  has  the  effrontery  to  declare  that 
she  never  had  any  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  her  love-affairs,  and  defies  any 
one  to  name  "  a  single  man  who  had  purchased  her  favours." 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  303 

including  the  "  Baron  de  Kervert,"  who  is  described  as 
a  rich  Englishman,  but  whom  we  have  failed  to  identify ; 
a  Polish  nobleman,  the  Comte  de  Brotok,  "who  made 
a  brave  show  before  he  became  acquainted  with  her,  but, 
in  less  than  four  months,  had  lost  coach,  diamonds,  and 
snuff-box,  and  was  obliged  to  pretend  that  he  was  in 
mourning  for  one  of  his  relations,  in  order  to  appear 
without  shame  in  a  black  coat ; "  the  actor  Grandval, 
who  had  had  more  bonnes  fortunes  than  he  could  count, 
but  who  proved  so  accommodating  an  admirer  that,  after 
a  few  months  of  the  lady's  society,  "  his  colleagues  had 
to  accord  him  a  benefit  performance  in  order  to  re- 
establish his  affairs,  which  had  fallen  into  a  disastrous 
condition ; "  and,  finally,  the  Baron  de  Besenval,  whose 
reputation  for  gallantry  was,  in  later  years,  to  com- 
promise Marie  Antoinette,  and  "with  whom,"  says  La 
Janiere,  "  she  became  infatuated."  l 

For  Besenval  indeed,  with  whom  she  had  had  a 
previous  liaison  during  her  career  in  the  provinces, 
Mile.  Clairon,  to  judge  by  her  letters,  appears  to  have 
entertained  a  genuine  affection.  In  one  epistle,  "  she 
conjures  him  to  love  her  for  ever " ;  in  another,  she 
informs  him  that  a  letter  which  she  has  just  received 
from  him  has  "restored  her  to  life,"  and  that,  however 
much  he  may  love  her,  his  passion  must  of  necessity 
be  inferior  to  hers ;  and,  in  a  third,  declares  that  the 
devotion  she  feels  for  him  has  "  spoiled  her  taste "  for 
other  admirers,  and  that  she  "  experiences  more  pleasure 
in  being  true  to  him,  whether  he  desires  it  or  not,  than 
she  formerly  had  in  being  unfaithful." 

But  let  us  listen  to  some  of  the  reports  of  the  Argus- 

1  Ravaisson,  Archives  de  la  Bastille,  xii.  348. 

2  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  p.  43  et  seq. 


304      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

eyed  agents  of  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  which  prove 
what  an  important  personage  a  fashionable  actress  was 
in  those  days  : — 

"SAINT-MARC  TO  BERRYER. 

"June   14,   1748. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  report  to  you  that  the  trust- 
worthy person  whom  I  introduced  into  Mile.  Clairon's 
house  assures  me  that  the  Prince  de  Monaco,  since  his 
return  to  his  regiment,  has  not  allowed  a  single  day  to 
pass  without  writing  to  Clairon ;  he  shows  much  affec- 
tion for  her,  and,  among  other  things,  he  begs  her  con- 
stantly not  to  return  to  the  stage  until  her  health  is 
perfectly  re-established,  and  to  remember  that  she  has 
promised  to  take  every  care  of  her  life,  in  order  to  pro- 
long his  .  .  . 

"  D'Hugues  de  Giversac,  who  is  very  much  in  love 
with  Clairon,  and  is  reputed  to  have  enjoyed  her  favours, 
has  made  all  sorts  of  attempts  to  gain  admission  to  the 
house,  but  I  am  assured  that  there  is  no  possibility  of 
his  succeeding,  and  that  Clairon's  door  is  closed  to  him. 
It  has  been  remarked  that,  since  the  departure  of  the 
prince,  she  has  not  received  any  one,  except  actors  and 
actresses  and,  frequently,  an  old  attorney,  who  is  a  friend 
of  Clairon's  father.  Moreover,  she  does  not  go  out, 
except  to  Mass,  and,  since  her  illness,  it  does  not  appear 
that  the  prince  has  any  rivals.  It  has  been  said  that 
D'Hugues  was  one,  but  the  demoiselle's  conduct  for 
some  time  past  renders  that  improbable. 

"  It  has  been  remarked  that  Clairon  only  goes  out 
with  her  father  and  sister,  or  some  actors.  She  always 
makes  great  cheer  and  spends  large  sums  on  her  table. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  305 

She  is  daily  expecting  the  arrival  of  the  prince  and  his 
money.  I  continue  the  precautions  necessary  to  enable 
me  to  operate  successfully  the  moment  the  prince 
appears." 

"SAINT-MARC  to  BERRYER. 

"  June  23,    1748. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  report  to  you  that  Mile. 
Clairon  received  yesterday  evening  a  letter  from  the 
Prince  de  Monaco,  in  which  he  informs  her  that  he  will 
arrive  without  fail  at  the  end  of  next  week.  But  Clairon 
considers  that  this  is  a  feint  on  his  part,  and  that  he  will 
arrive  sooner,  in  order  to  surprise  her.  Apart  from  that, 
nothing  of  importance  has  happened  at  this  house.  The 
demoiselle  does  not  go  out,  nor  does  she  receive  any  one, 
save  the  members  of  her  troupe  and  the  old  person  of 
whom  I  have  spoken." 

"SAINT-MARC  to  BERRYER. 

"  August  10,   1748. 

"  I  have  the  honour  to  report  to  you  that  nothing 
likely  to  be  of  interest  to  you  is  taking  place  at  the 
house  of  the  demoiselle  Clairon.  She  often  sees  her 
comrades  of  the  Comedie,  with  whom  she  always  makes 
good  cheer. 

"  There  is  a  foreigner  whose  name  I  have  not  been 
able  to  ascertain,  who  has  employed  a  woman  called 
Caron,  formerly  an  entremetteuse,  to  speak  in  his  favour. 
This  foreigner,  although  he  is  not  acquainted  with  her, 
has  sent  to  Clairon  a  piece  of  Indian  taffeta,  a  great 
quantity  of  chocolate  and  champagne,  and  a  service  of 
porcelain  encrusted  with  gold,  which  presents  were 

u 


306      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

entrusted  to  one  of  Clairon's  servants,  with  a  letter 
from  the  foreigner,  promising  her  a  considerable  allow- 
ance, if  she  will  become  his  mistress.  The  story  goes 
that  she  wrote  to  the  Prince  de  Monaco,  to  inform  him 
of  the  advantageous  proposal  she  had  received  from  this 
foreigner.  The  prince  despatched,  on  the  instant,  an  old 
confidential  servant,  with  instructions,  in  writing,  enjoin- 
ing on  the  demoiselle  Clairon  to  return  everything  which 
she  had  received  from  this  foreigner.  The  demoiselle 
found  herself  in  an  exceedingly  embarrassing  position, 
inasmuch  as  she  had  disposed  of  more  than  half  the 
presents,  having  converted  them  into  cash.  Since  then, 
the  prince's  confidential  servant  has  remained  in  Paris, 
to  keep  an  eye  upon  her  behaviour,  until  the  moment  of 
the  arrival  of  his  master,  who  has  been  very  impatiently 
expected  for  more  than  a  month."  * 

"MEUNIER  to  BERRYER. 

"September  18,  1748. 

"  The  demoiselle  Clairon  has  for  a  long  time  been 
the  mistress  of  [the  Marquis]  de  Cindr6.  At  the  end 
of  the  month  of  August,  she  asked  him  for  a  sum  of 
2000  livres,2  of  which  she  stood  in  pressing  need.  He 
gave  her  this  sum. 

"Some  days  later,  she  demanded  of  M.  de  Cindre 
a  country-house.  He  could  refuse  her  nothing,  and 
rented  one  for  her  at  Pantin,  which  he  furnished 
magnificently. 

1  Ravaisson,  Archives  de  la  Bastille,  xii.  292  et  seq. 

2  Ravaisson,  Archives  de  la  Bastille,  xii.  295.     From  the  same  report 
we  learn  that  the  Prince  of  Wiirtemberg,  then  on  a  visit  to  Paris,  had 
fallen  violently  in  love  with  Mile.   Gaussin,  "  et  qu'il  a  commence  par  lui 

faire  un  present  de  200  louts  pour  souper  avec  elle."  Mile.  Clairon  was 
probably  no  worse  than  the  other  divinities  of  the  Comedie. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  307 

"  M.  de  Cindre  went  to  visit  her  one  evening,  and,  to 
give  her  an  agreeable  surprise,  entered  by  a  back  door, 
and  found  the  demoiselle  Clairon  with  a  young  man.  .  .  . 
He  withdrew,  without  speaking  to  any  one,  and  without 
his  presence  being  discovered.  The  following  day,  he 
sent  and  removed  the  furniture  which  he  had  placed 
in  the  house,  and  abandoned  Mile.  Clairon. 

"  The  young  man  in  question  is  M.  de  Jaucourt,  an 
officer  of  dragoons,  who,  about  two  months  ago,  was 
arrested  for  being  absent  from  his  regiment  without 
leave." 

Under  date  October  23,  1748,  we  come  to  an  entry 
of  considerable  interest : — 

"  The  demoiselle  Clairon  has  dismissed  the  Marquis 
de  Thibouville.  She  has  replaced  him  by  the  sieur 
Marmontel,  author  of  Denis  le  Tyran.  He  is  not 
recognisable  since  he  has  devoted  himself  to  amusing 
this  girl."  * 

The  beginning  of  the  liaison  between  Mile.  Clairon 
and  the  author  of  the  Contes  moraux,  which  the  latter 
relates,  with  much  complacency,  in  his  ever-delightful 
Mtmoires,  written,  by  the  way,  "  for  the  instruction  of 
his  children,"  is  distinctly  amusing. 

Marmontel  had  been  in  love  with  a  certain  Mile. 
Navarre,  whose  heart  he  had  stolen  away  from  Maurice 
de  Saxe,  much  to  the  indignation  of  the  famous  Marshal,2 

1  Archives,  xii.  295. 

2  This  was  not  the  only  occasion  upon  which  Marmontel  trespassed 
upon  Maurice's  preserves.     He  took  a  similar  liberty  with  the  heart  of 
Mile,  de  Verrieres,  "  on  learning  which  the  Marshal  fell  into  a  passion 
unworthy  of  so  great  a  man." 


308      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

and  who  had  made  of  him  "  the  happiest  of  lovers  and 
the  most  miserable  of  slaves."  One  day,  he  learned 
that  his  enchantress  had  jilted  him,  in  his  turn,  for 
the  Chevalier  de  Mirabeau,  upon  which  he  went  home, 
"  fell  down  like  a  sacrificed  victim,"  and  was  for  some 
time  alarmingly  ill.  Mile.  Clairon  came  to  console 
him,  when  the  following  conversation  took  place : — 

"  *  My  friend/  said  she,  '  your  heart  needs  some 
object  of  love  ;  you  feel  listless,  because  it  is  empty. 
You  must  interest ;  you  must  fill  it.  Is  there  not  a 
woman  in  the  world  whom  you  can  think  agreeable  ?  * 

"  *  I  know,'  said  I,  *  only  one  who  could  comfort  me 
if  she  chose,  but  would  she  be  so  generous.' 

" '  We  must  see  as  to  that,'  replied  she,  with  a 
smile.  '  Am  I  acquainted  with  her  ?  I  will  endeavour 
to  assist  you.' 

" *  Yes,  you  know  her,  and  have  great  influence 
over  her.' 

"  *  Well,  what  is  her  name  ?  I  will  speak  to  her 
in  your  favour ;  I  will  say  that  you  love  with  ardour 
and  sincerity ;  that  you  can  be  faithful  and  constant ; 
that  she  is  sure  of  being  happy  in  your  love.' 

"  *  So  you  really  believe  all  this  ? ' 

"  '  Yes  ;  I  am  fully  persuaded  of  it.' 

"  *  Be  so  good  as  to  say  it  to  yourself.' 

"  '  To  myself,  my  friend  ? ' 

"  *  To  yourself.' 

"  *  Ah !  then  it  shall  be  my  pride  to  comfort  you.'  " l 

A  connection  was  thus  formed,  which,  though  it  did 
not  last  very  long — at  least  the  love-affair  did  not — 2 

1  Memoiret  de  Marmontel  (edit.  1804),  i.  266. 

2  Marmontel  tells  us  that    Mile.  Clairon    made  "  a  very    desirable 
mistress."     "She   had,"    says   he,    "all   the   charms   of  an  agreeable 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  309 

was  not  without  its  influence  upon  the  professional 
careers  of  both.  Marmontel  tells  us  that  his  passion 
for  the  actress  had  the  effect  of  "  rekindling  his  poeti- 
cal ardour  " ;  while,  on  her  side,  Mile.  Clairon  was  in- 
duced by  the  representations  of  the  young  author  to 
adopt  a  more  natural  style  of  acting,  which  may  be 
said  to  have  given  the  finishing  touch  to  an  art  which 
came  nearer  perfection  than  anything  yet  seen  on  the 
French  stage,  and,  moreover,  opened  the  door  for  a 
reform  the  importance  of  which  can  scarcely  be  over- 
estimated. 

Marmontel  had  repeatedly  urged  upon  the  tragedienne 
the  advisability  of  aiming  at  greater  simplicity,  pointing 
out  that  her  acting  was  "  too  splendid,  too  impetuous,'* 
and  was  wanting  in  suppleness  and  truth.  "  You  pos- 
sess," said  he,  "  every  means  of  excelling  in  your  art,  and 
yet,  great  as  you  are,  you  might  easily  rise  above  your- 
self, purely  by  using  more  temperately  those  powers  of 
which  you  are  so  prodigal.  You  cite  to  me  your  own 
brilliant  successes  and  those  which  you  have  gained  for 
me ;  you  cite  the  opinion  and  the  advice  of  your 
friends;  you  cite  the  opinion  of  M.  de  Voltaire,  who 
himself  recites  his  lines  with  emphasis,  and  who  pretends 
that  declamation  requires  the  same  pomp  as  style ;  while 
I,  in  return,  can  only  urge  an  irresistible  feeling  that 
declamation,  like  style,  may  be  dignified,  majestic, 
tragic,  and  yet  simple ;  that  tones,  in  order  to  be 

character  without  any  mixture  of  caprice ;  while  her  only  desire,  her 
most  delicate  attentions,  were  directed  towards  rendering  her  lover 
happy.  So  long  as  she  loved,  no  one  could  be  more  faithful  or  more 
tender  than  she.  ...  I  left  her  charming,  I  found  her  equally,  and, 
if  possible,  still  more  charming.  What  a  pity  that  with  so  seductive 
a  character  so  much  levity  should  be  joined,  and  that  love  so  sincere, 
and  even  so  faithful,  should  not  have  been  more  constant !  " 


310      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

animated  and  deeply  affecting,  require  gradations,  shades, 
unforeseen  and  sudden  transitions,  which  they  can  never 
have  when  strained  and  laboured." 

Mile.  Clairon  laughingly  replied  that  she  saw  plainly 
that  he  would  never  let  her  alone  until  she  had  adopted 
a  tone  and  manner  more  suited  to  comedy  than  to 
tragedy.  To  which  Marmontel  rejoined  that  this  she 
could  never  do,  since  her  voice,  her  look,  her  pronun- 
ciation, her  gestures,  her  attitudes,  were  all  instinc- 
tively dignified  and  majestic,  and  that,  if  she  would 
but  consent  to  be  natural,  her  tragic  powers  could  not 
fail  to  be  enhanced. 

For  a  long  while,  the  actress  refused  to  be  persuaded  ; 
but,  finally,  in  1752,  after  Marmontel  had,  for  some  time, 
ceased  to  urge  her,  she  resolved  to  follow  his  counsels. 
Judging  it  best  to  make  her  first  essays  in  the  new 
method  before  a  public  less  critical  and  less  conservative 
than  that  of  Paris,  she  obtained  permission  to  visit 
Bordeaux,  where,  in  addition,  she  would  have  the  ad- 
vantage of  performing  in  a  theatre  more  suited  to  the 
style  she  proposed  to  adopt  than  the  large  salle  of  the 
Comedie-Fran9aise.  On  her  first  evening  at  Bordeaux, 
she  appeared  as  Phedre,  and  played  the  part  in  the 
way  she  had  always  been  accustomed  to  perform  it  in 
Paris,  that  is  to  say,  with  much  extravagance  of  tone 
and  gesture.  She  was,  of  course,  loudly  applauded. 
The  next  day,  she  appeared  as  Agrippine,  and  played 
the  character  from  beginning  to  end  in  conformity 
with  the  ideas  which  she  had  recently  adopted. 

"  This  simple,  easy,  and  natural  style  of  acting,"  she 
tells  us,  "  at  first  surprised  them.  An  accelerated  mode 
of  utterance  at  the  end  of  each  couplet,  and  a  regular 
gradation  of  vehemence  had  been  usually  the  signals 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  311 

for  applause ;  they  knew  that  it  had  only  been  usual 
to  applaud  such  passages  ;  and,  as  I  did  not  resort  to 
the  style  to  which  they  had  become  accustomed,  I  was 
not  applauded."  As  the  play  proceeded,  however,  the 
attitude  of  the  audience  underwent  a  change ;  murmurs 
of  "  Mats  cela  est  beau  !  Cela  est  beau  !  "  began  to  make 
themselves  heard  ;  and,  when  the  curtain  fell,  the  actress 
received  a  perfect  ovation. 

"  After  this,"  she  continues,  "  I  represented  thirty-two 
of  my  different  characters,  and  always  in  my  newly- 
adopted  style.  Ariane  was  of  the  number,  and  the 
authors  of  the  Encyclopedic,  under  the  subject  Dtclama- 
tion,  have  been  kind  enough  to  transmit  to  posterity  the 
very  marked  and  flattering  homage  which  I  received. 
However,  being  still  fearful,  and  doubting  the  judgment 
of  the  public,  as  well  as  my  own,  I  determined  to 
perform  Phedre  as  I  had  played  it  at  first,  and  I  saw, 
to  my  delight,  that  they  were  dissatisfied  with  it.  I 
had  courage  enough  to  say  that  it  was  an  experiment 
which  I  had  believed  it  to  be  my  duty  to  make,  and 
that  I  would  play  the  same  character  differently,  if 
they  would  grant  me  the  favour  of  a  third  perform- 
ance. I  obtained  permission,  adopted  the  style  which 
was  the  result  of  my  studies  as  completely  as  I  could, 
and  every  one  agreed  that  there  was  no  comparison." 

Encouraged  by  the  success  which  had  attended  her 
experiments  at  Bordeaux,  Mile.  Clairon  forthwith  de- 
termined to  try  the  effect  of  the  new  method  upon 
Paris  and  Versailles. 

One  day,  when  she  was  to  play  Roxane  in  the  little 
theatre  at  Versailles,  Marmontel,  happening  to  come  to 
her  dressing-room,  was  surprised  to  find  her  attired  like 
a  sultana,  without  panier,  her  arms  half-bare,  and,  in 


312      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

short,  in  correct  Oriental  costume.  He  complimented 
her  upon  her  appearance,  upon  which  she  told  him 
of  her  experience  at  Bordeaux,  adding :  "  I  am  going 
to  try  it  again  in  this  small  theatre.  Come  and  hear 
me,  and  if  it  be  as  successful  here,  adieu  to  the  old 
declamation  !  " 

The  result,  Marmontel  tells  us,  exceeded  their  most 
sanguine  anticipations.  "  It  was  no  longer  the  actress, 
but  Roxane  herself,  who  was  seen  and  heard."  The 
aristocratic  audience  were  delighted,  and  applauded  her 
warmly.  After  the  play,  her  friend  went  to  congratulate 
her  upon  her  success.  "Ah!"  said  she,  "don't  you  see 
that  I  am  undone  ?  In  all  my  characters  the  costume 
must  now  be  observed ;  the  truth  of  dress  must  be 
conjoined  with  that  of  acting.  All  my  costly  theatrical 
wardrobe  must  from  this  moment  be  changed ;  I  lose 
clothes  to  the  value  of  10,000  crowns  ;  but  the  sacrifice 
is  made.  You  shall  see  me  within  a  week  perform 
Electre  as  naturally  as  I  have  just  played  Roxane." 

She  was  as  good  as  her  word.  It  was  the  Electre  of 
Crebillon.  "  In  place  of  the  ridiculous  panier  and  wide 
mourning  gown  which  she  had  been  accustomed  to 
wear,"  says  Marmontel,  "  she  appeared  in  the  simple 
dress  of  a  slave,  with  her  hair  dishevelled,  and  long 
chains  upon  her  arms.  She  was  admirable,  and,  some 
time  afterwards,  she  was  still  more  sublime  in  the  Electre 
of  Voltaire.  Voltaire  had  made  her  recite  this  part  with 
an  unvaried  and  doleful  monotony  ;  but,  when  spoken 
naturally,  it  acquired  a  beauty  unknown  to  himself. 
On  hearing  it  acted  at  his  theatre  at  Ferney,  where 
she  went  to  visit  him,  he  exclaimed,  bathed  in  tears  and 
transported  with  admiration,  '  It  is  not  I  who  am  the 
author  of  that — it  is  herself;  she  has  created  the  part.' 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  313 

And,  indeed,  the  infinity  of  shades  which  she  introduced, 
and  the  manner  in  which  she  expressed  the  passions, 
rendered  it  perhaps,  of  all  others,  that  in  which  she  was 
the  most  astonishing."  1 

Paris,  as  well  as  Versailles,  was  quick  to  recognise  in 
this  change  the  genuine  tragic  tone,  and  the  enormously 
increased  appearance  of  probability  which  theatrical  per- 
formances derive  from  a  due  observation  of  costume. 
Thus,  from  one  reform  sprang  another,  and,  warmly 
supported  by  the  celebrated  actor  Lekain,2  who  was 
keenly  alive  to  the  absurdity  of  dressing  the  characters 
of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome  in  a  half-modern  fashion, 

1  Memoires  de  Marmontcl  (edit.  1804),  ii.  41  et  seq. 

2  Lekain  had  made   his  debut  at   the  Comedie-Frangaise  on  Sep- 
tember 14,  1750,  as  Titus  in  the  Brutus  of  Voltaire.     His  admission  into 
the  company  was  bitterly  opposed  by  Mile.  Clairon,  who  gave  no  other 
reason  for  her  hostility  than  that   his   personal  appearance — he  was  a 
remarkably  plain  man,  short  and  thick-set,  with  a  harsh  voice  and  rough 
manners — was  displeasing  to  her.     Lekain  retaliated  by  giving  publicity 
to  certain  episodes  in  the  lady's  private  life  which  did  not  redound  to  her 
credit.     To  which  Mile.  Clairon  rejoined  by  addressing  him  before  the 
assembled  company  as  follows  :   "  I  was  well  aware,  Monsieur,  that  you 
were  a  man  of  repulsive  appearance,  but  I  did  not  know  that  you  possessed 
a  soul  a  thousand  times  more  hideous  than  your  person."     Lekain  left 
the  theatre  in  a  towering  passion,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  another  enemy 
of  Mile.  Clairon,  the  Chevalier  de  la  Morliere,  composed  a  letter,  "  the 
most  insulting,  the  most  atrocious,  that  it  was  possible  to  conceive,"  which 
he  sent  to  the  actress.     For  this  he  was  expelled  from  the  Comedie, 
but  subsequently,  on  writing  another  letter,  this  time  of  apology,  rein- 
stated.    Soon  after  this  affair,  which  was  common  knowledge,  Lekain 
happened  to  be  playing  ./Eneas  to  the  Dido  of  Mile.  Clairon,  in  Le  Franc 
de  Pompignan's  tragedy.     In  one  of  the  most  touching  passages  of  the 
play,  the  ill-fated  queen,  addressing  her  faithless  lover,  exclaims : — 

"  Je  devrais  te  ha'i'r,  ingrat !      Et  je  t' adore." 

No  sooner  were  the  words  out  of  her  mouth,  than  the  whole  pit  burst  into 
such  peals  of  merriment  that  it  was  fully  five  minutes  before  the  perform- 
ance could  be  continued. 


3H   QUEENS  OF  THE  FRENCH  STAGE 

Mile.  Clairon  was  able  to  effect  a  veritable  revolution. 
Henceforth,  the  actors  were  forced  to  abandon  their 
fonnelets,  their  fringed  gloves,  their  voluminous  periwigs, 
their  plumed  hats,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  trappings  which 
one  sees  in  Liotard's  engraving  of  Watteau's  picture, 
Le s  Comtdiens  Franfais ;  and  this  new  desire  for  truth 
ere  long  extended  to  the  scenery  and  all  the  accessories. 

Voltaire's  Orphelin  de  la  Chine,  produced  on  August 
20,  1754,  where,  in  the  part  of  Idame,  Mile.  Clairon 
secured  one  of  her  most  brilliant  triumphs,1  was  the  first 
play  in  which  they  ventured  to  act  on  their  ideas. 
"  On  returning  from  Fontainebleau,"  writes  Colle,  "  this 
tragedy  has  been  revived,  and  has  had  nine  representa- 
tions. I  omitted  to  mention  that  the  players  have  been 
put  to  some  expense.  They  have  had  a  scene  painted, 
or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  a  palace,  in  the  Chinese 
fashion ;  they  have  also  observed  the  costumes  of  the 
country  in  their  dress.  The  women  wore  Chinese 
gowns,  were  without  paniers  and  ruffles,  and  had  their 
arms  bare.  Clairon  even  affected  foreign  gesticulations, 
placing  frequently  one  hand  or  both  on  her  hips  ;  holding 
for  some  moments  her  clenched  fist  to  her  forehead,  and 
so  forth.  The  men,  according  to  the  characters  they 
represented,  were  attired  as  Tartars  or  Chinamen.2  The 
effect  was  excellent." 3 

Mile.  Clairon  was  not  content  with  restoring  to  the 
figures  of  the  past  their  correct  costume  ;  she  sought 
to  make  them  live  again  in  all  the  distinctiveness  of  their 
times,  their  countries,  and  their  nationality.  To  be  a 

1  See  p.  294  supra. 

2  Grimm  says  that  Voltaire  surrendered  to  the  players  his  share  of 
the  profits,  in  order  to  help  them  to  defray  the  expense  of  the  costumes. 

8  Journal  et  Memoir esy  ii.  33. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  315 

great  tragic  actor  or  actress,  it  was  not  enough,  in  her 
opinion,  to  have  a  sonorous  voice,  a  majestic  presence, 
a  dignified  carriage,  enthusiasm,  and  dramatic  intelli- 
gence ;  it  was  necessary  for  the  player  "  to  transport 
himself  into  the  times  and  the  places  where  the  characters 
which  he  was  representing  had  lived,"  to  recover,  in  fact, 
a  little  of  the  spirit  of  Rome,  Sparta,  or  Athens.  "  Not 
only,"  says  she,  in  her  Mtmoires,  "  ought  one  to  acquaint 
oneself  with  the  history  of  all  the  peoples  of  the  world, 
but  to  investigate  it  thoroughly ;  to  render  oneself 
familiar  with  it,  even  in  the  minutest  details  ;  to  adapt 
to  each  role  the  peculiarities  which  the  nation  to  which 
the  character  belonged  ought  to  exhibit." 

Such  a  result  could,  of  course,  only  be  attained  by 
constant  study  ;  and  she  herself  was  an  indefatigable 
student  of  historical  works  and  the  classics,  as  well  as 
of  statues,  monuments,  and  portraits  ;  and  unsparing  in 
her  condemnation  of  those  members  of  her  profession 
who  were  too  indolent  or  too  careless  to  follow  her 
example.  Grimm  relates  an  imaginary  conversation 
between  Mile.  Clairon  and  a  young  actor,  which 
Mme.  d'Epinay  declared  that  she  had  dreamed,  and 
which,  no  doubt,  correctly  illustrates  the  tragedienne's 
views  on  this  subject. 

The  young  actor  has  come  to  enlist  Mile.  Clairon's 
good  offices  to  secure  him  a  debut  at  the  Comedie-Fran- 
9aise,  and  the  following  conversation  takes  place  : — 

"  Have  you  yet  appeared  at  any  theatre  ?  " 

"  No,  Mademoiselle." 

"  Well !  no  matter ;  your  face  interests  me.  Be 
seated,  Monsieur,  and  let  us  talk.  .  .  .  Ah !  go  and 
fetch  me  my  work-basket  from  yonder  console,  at  the 
end  of  the  room,  so  that  I  may  see  you  walk,  if  you 


3i6      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

please — over  there,  near  that  Japanese  ornament.  .  .  . 
Monsieur,  I  thank  you.  That  is  satisfactory ;  your 
movements  are  easy ;  you  have  no  stiffness,  nor  un- 
gainliness ;  but  you  have  no  distinction.  Have  you 
never  had  occasion  to  observe  men  of  quality  in  society  ? 
What,  Monsieur,  are  the  characters  in  which  you  are 
most  proficient,  and  which  you  propose  that  I  should 
listen  to  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  that  of  Nero  in  Sritannicus" 

"  Is  that  the  only  one  ?  Well,  Monsieur,  before  I 
listen  to  you,  have  the  kindness  to  tell  me  who  Nero 
was." 

"  Mademoiselle,  he  was  an  emperor  who  lived  at 
Rome." 

"  That  he  lived  at  Rome  is  correct.  But  was  he  a 
Roman  emperor,  or  did  he  reside  at  Rome  for  pleasure  ? 
How  did  he  rise  to  be  emperor  ?  What  were  his  claims, 
his  birth,  his  parents,  his  education,  his  character,  his 
inclinations,  his  virtues,  his  vices  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  the  role  of  Nero  answers  some  of 
your  questions,  but  not  all." 

"  Monsieur,  it  is  necessary  to  answer  not  only  these 
questions,  but  all  the  further  ones  that  I  shall  ask  you. 
And  how  can  you  play  the  part  of  Nero,  or  any  other 
that  you  wish  to,  unless  you  are  as  well  acquainted  with 
the  life  of  the  personage  whom  you  are  representing  as 
with  your  own  ?  " 

"  I  was  under  the  impression,  Mademoiselle,  that  in 
order  to  grasp  the  sense  of  his  role,  it  was  quite  sufficient 
to  be  acquainted  with  the  play." 

"  And  you  were  under  a  wrong  impression,  Mon- 
sieur." l 

1  Grimm,  Correspondance  litteraire,  cited  by  Edmond  de  Goncourt, 
Mademoiselle  Clairon,  1 3 1  et  teg. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  317 

In  the  midst  of  her  histrionic  triumphs,  Mile.  Clairon 
continued  her  career  of  gallantry.  To  Marmontel  suc- 
ceeded the  Bailli  de  Fleury,  "  understudied  "  by  a  M.  de 
Villeguillon,  an  officer  of  Musketeers.  Soon  both  these 
gentlemen  were  discarded  in  favour  of  the  Marquis  de 
Ximenes,  a  young  man  of  twenty-five,  with  a  consider- 
able fortune.  The  marquis,  who  was  by  way  of  being 
a  poet,  began  his  wooing  by  inditing  sonnets  to  the 
lady's  eyes,  which,  however,  were  very  coldly  received. 
Thereupon,  changing  his  tactics,  he  sent  her  a  Perigueux 
•pdtt,  in  which  he  had  caused  to  be  inserted,  in  the  guise 
of  truffles,  six  rouleaux  of  fifty  louis  each.  The  rouleaux 
were  much  more  to  Mile.  Clairon's  taste  than  the  verses 
had  been,  and,  when  her  generous  admirer  presented 
himself  that  evening,  her  door  was  no  longer  closed  to 
him. 

The  marquis  loved  the  lady  very  dearly.  For  her 
sake,  he  abandoned  a  former  enchantress  of  the  name 
of  Mainville,  "  who  had  already  plucked  some  of  his 
feathers."  For  her  sake,  he  parted  with  a  fine  estate 
in  Champagne  and  laid  the  proceeds  at  her  feet.  And 
every  day  he  came  to  visit  her  "  in  an  equipage  of  the 
most  brilliant  description,  with  two  tall  lackeys  in  the 
rumble,  and  a  running  footman  preceding  it,  all  superbly 
habited."  x 

Finally,  however,  she  killed  his  love  with  a  bon  mot. 
A  fair  colleague  in  the  green-room,  with  whom  she  was 
having  words,  happened  to  remark  that  Monsieur  le 
Marquis  had  turned  Mademoiselle's  head.  "  Yes," 
snapped  the  actress,  "  away  from  him."  M.  de  Ximenes, 
be  it  said,  was  not  an  Adonis. 

1  "  Report  of  Meunier  to  the  Lieutenant  of  Police;"  Rayaisson, 
Archives  de  la  Bastille,  xii.  367. 


3i 8      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

This  injudicious  speech  was  duly  reported  to  the 
marquis,  who,  stung  to  the  quick,  quitted  the  lady  for 
ever.  Mile.  Clairon  wrote  demanding  the  return  of  a 
portrait  of  herself  which  she  had  given  him.  It  came, 
and,  with  it,  these  cruel  verses  :— 

"  Tout  s^use,  tout  pe"rit,  tu  le  prouves,  Clairon  ; 
Ce  pastel  dont  tu  m'a  fait  don, 
Du  temps  a  ressenti  Toutrage 
II  t'en  ressemble  davantage." l 

To  M.  de  Ximenes  succeeded  a  gentleman  who,  for 
some  time,  baffled  the  curiosity  of  Berryer's  inspectors 
by  invariably  visiting  the  actress  under  cover  of  night, 
in  a  hackney-coach,  and  with  his  features  concealed  by 
a  cloak.  Ultimately,  it  transpired  that  the  mysterious 
admirer  was  the  Marquis  de  Bauffremont,  who  having 
recently  married — and  not  for  love — a  lady  of  a  very 
jealous  disposition,  had  strong  reasons  for  desiring  to 
hide  his  identity.2 

The  discreet  M.  de  Bauffremont  was  followed  by 
yet  another  marquis  ;  he  of  Rochechouart — Mile.  Clairon 
appears  to  have  been  extremely  partial  to  noblemen  of 
this  particular  rank — and,  finally,  the  lady  formed  a 
liaison  with  Joseph  Alphonse  Omer,  Comte  de  Valbelle 
d'Oraison,  "  who  had  received  from  Nature  all  the  graces 
that  go  to  the  making  of  an  amiable  man,  and  whom 
Chance  had  made  the  richest  noble  in  Provence." 

Let  us  hasten  to  add  that  here,  at  any  rate,  Mile. 
Clairon  seems  to  have  experienced  a  genuine  passion, 
which  was  undoubtedly  reciprocated  ;  for  her  liaison  with 

1  Grimm,  Correspondance  litteraire,  i.  377. 

2  Report  of  Meunier  to  Berryer,  Lieutenant  of  Police,  Archives  de 
la  Bastille,  xii. 

3  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  p.  170. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  319 

the  Comte  de  Valbelle  lasted  for  nineteen  years,  and, 
as  we  shall  presently  see,  might  have  been  regularised, 
had  the  actress  been  so  disposed. 

With  her  triumph  in  the  Amena'fde  of  Tancrede,  of 
which  we  have  spoken  elsewhere,  Mile.  Clairon  reached 
the  height  of  her  fame.  She  ruled  with  despotic  sway 
not  only  the  theatre,  but  the  world  of  fashion  as  well. 
At  her  house,  in  the  Rue  des  Marais — the  same  house 
which  had  been  successively  occupied  by  Marie  de 
Champmesle,  Racine,  and  Adrienne  Lecouvreur — she 
received  the  cream  of  the  society  of  both  Court  and 
capital : l  Mesdames  d'Aiguillon,  de  Villeroi,  de  la 
Valliere,  de  Forcalquier,  and  others  ;  and  in  turn,  was 
a  frequent  guest  at  their  tables  and  also  at  that  of 
Madame  du  Deffand.  The  Princess  Galitzin,  wife  of 
the  Russian  Ambassador  at  the  Court  of  Vienna,  formed 
so  deep  an  attachment  for  the  actress  that  she  "  could 
not  spend  two  hours  without  seeing  her  or  writing  to 
her."  It  was  she  who  commissioned  Carle  Van  Loo  to 
paint  his  celebrated  portrait  of  Mile.  Clairon  as  Medea,2 

1  We  read  in  Mile.  Clairon' 8  Memoircs  :  " '  The  walls  alone  of  this 
house,'  I  said  to  myself,  *  ought  to  make  me  feel  the  sublimity  of  the 
poet,  and  enable  me  to  attain  the  talent   of  the  actress.     It  is  in  this 
sanctuary  that  I  ought  to  live  and  die.' "      We  fear  that  the  sanctuary 
was,  on  occasion,  somewhat  profaned,  since  the  lady  was  in  the  habit  of 
entertaining  here  not  only  dames  of  high  degree,  but  some  of  the  most 
dissolute  members  of  Paris  society. 

2  "  M.  Carle  Van  Loo's  picture,  in  which  Mile.  Clairon  is  painted 
as  Medea,  had  a  great  reputation  while  it  was  still  unfinished.     Hardly 
had  the  artist  opened  his  studio,  than  all  Paris  crowded  to  admire  his 
chef  (Fceuvre.      Never  did  work   obtain  more  unanimous  praise." — Le 
Tableau  de  Mile.  Clairon,  par  M.  Carle  Vanloo,  a  manuscript  document 
cited   by    Edmond   de    Goncourt.      When    it    was    nearly    completed, 
Louis  XV.  expressed  a.  wish  to  see  it,  and  came  to  Van  Loo's  studio, 


320      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

and  presented  it  to  the  actress.  It  was  she,  too,  who, 
in  1759,  persuaded  the  Russian  Court  to  invite  the 
great  actress  to  leave  France  and  take  up  her  residence 
at  St.  Petersburg.  The  terms  offered  were  extremely 
tempting,1  and  Mile.  Clairon  hesitated  long  before 
refusing  them.  But  her  passion  for  the  Comte  de 
Valbelle  was  then  at  its  height,  and  she  could  not 
reconcile  herself  to  the  idea  of  being  separated  from  her 
lover.  Then  the  count  offered  to  make  her  his  wife, 
and  accompany  her  to  Russia,  and  so  anxious  was  the 
Czarina  Elizabeth  to  secure  the  services  of  the  tragedienne, 
that  she  promised,  through  the  Princess  Galitzin,  to 
accord  him  the  same  rank  as  he  held  in  France,  "and 
the  emoluments  necessary  to  sustain  it.'*  Mile.  Clairon, 
however,  fell  ill,  and  illness  gave  her  time  for  reflection. 
She  remembered  that  she  was  seven  years  older  than  her 
lover,  who  was  a  very  gallant  gentleman  indeed,  and 
very  far  from  an  example  of  fidelity ;  as  her  charms 
waned,  she  could  hardly  flatter  herself  that  he  would 
become  more  constant.  She  remembered,  too,  the  dif- 
ference in  station ;  she  thought  of  the  indignation  of 
the  count's  family,  and  she  asked  herself  whether,  in 
years  to  come,  he  would  not  reproach  her  with  having 
taken  him  at  his  word. 

Finally,  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  "the  soul 
capable  of  rejecting  all  the  advantages  which  are  offered 

while  the  actress  was  sitting  to  him.  "You  are  indeed  fortunate," 
said  he  to  the  painter,  '« to  have  been  inspired  by  such  a  model ;  "  and, 
turning  to  the  lady,  added :  "  And  you,  Mademoiselle,  have  reason  to 
congratulate  yourself  on  being  immortalised  by  such  an  artist."  He 
then  announced  his  intention  of  defraying  the  cost  of  the  frame,  which 
came  to  5000  livres. 

1   Forty  thousand  francs  a  year,  a  house,  a  coach,  and  a  table  for 
six  persons. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  321 

is  a  thousand  times  more  noble  than  the  one  that  accepts 
them,"  and  declined  to  expatriate  herself.1  The  Princess 
Galitzin  was  not  the  only  distinguished  foreigner  to  seek 
to  perpetuate  the  genius  of  Mile.  Clairon.  Garrick,  who 
had  seen  her  act  at  Lille,  during  his  first  visit  to  France  in 
1742,  and  prophesied  a  great  future  for  her, — though 
this,  of  course,  was  in  comedy — came  to  Paris,  with  his 
wife,  after  the  conclusion  of  peace  in  1763,  on  their  way 
to  Italy.  A  warm  friendship  sprang  up  between  the 
great  English  actor  and  the  Queen  of  the  French  stage, 
and  so  delighted  was  Garrick  with  the  tragedienne's  talent 
that  he  commissioned  Gravelot  to  engrave  a  design, 
representing  Mile.  Clairon  "  in  all  the  attributes  of 
Tragedy,"  her  arm  resting  on  a  pile  of  books,  on  which 
might  be  read  the  names  of  Corneille,  Racine,  Voltaire, 
and  Cr£billon.2  By  her  side  stood  Melpomene  crowning 
her  with  laurel.  At  the  top  of  the  frame,  on  a  ribbon 
encircled  by  an  olive  branch,  one  read : — 

"  Prophetic  Accomplie." 
And  on  a  tablet  at  the  base,  the  following  verses : — 

"  J'ai  predit  que  Clairon  illustrerait  la  scene, 
Et  mon  esprit  rfa  point  6te"  d£cu  : 
Elle  a  couronn£  Melpomene, 
Melpomene  lui  rend  ce  qu'elle  en  a  recu." 

— GARRICK. 

1  Memolres  tie  Mademoiselle  Clairon  (edit.  I799)>  307  e t  seq. 

2  In  reference  to  the  arrangement  of  these  names,  Monnet  wrote  to 
Garrick  :  "  The  drawing  you  gave  Mile.  Clairon  is  engraved  ;  it  is  now 
on  sale,  and  M.  de  Crebillon  is  annoyed  because  they  have  placed  his 
father  after  Voltaire,  that  is  to  say,  below  him :  it  is  the  last  of  the 
volumes  on  which  Mile.  Clairon  is  leaning.     I  have  thrown  the  blame  on 
M.  Gravelot,  telling  him  that  you  held  too  high  an  opinion  of  his  father's 
talent  to  commit  such  an  error." — "  Private  Correspondence  of  David 
Garrick,"  ii.  442, 

X 


322      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

The  following  year,  the  Comte  de  Valbelle  and  a 
M.  de  Villepinte,  another  warm  admirer  of  the  actress, 
caused  a  gold  medal  to  be  struck  in  the  lady's  honour. 
On  the  face  of  this  medal  was  Gravelot's  allegorical 
design  ;  while  the  reverse  bore  this  inscription  : — 

L'Amiti6 

Et  Melpomene 

Ont  Fait  Frapper 

Cette 

MEDAILLE 

EN   1764. 

The  pleasure  which  the  lady  derived  from  this  piece 
of  adulation  must  have  been  considerably  discounted  by 
the  publication  of  the  following  mordant  epigram,  from 
the  pen  of  the  dramatist  Saint-Foix,  of  whose  works  she 
appears  to  have  spoken  slightingly : — 

"  Pour  la  fameuse  Fr^tillon 
Us  ont  os£  frapper  un  medallion  ; 
Mais  a  quelque  prix  qu'on  le  donne, 
Fut-ce  douze  sous,  fut-ce  me'me  pour  un, 
II  ne  sera  jamais  aussi  commun 
Que  le  fut  jadis  sa  personnel' l 

The  pride  of  Mile.  Clairon,  in  those  days,  knew  no 
bounds.  "  Madame  de  Pompadour,"  said  she,  one  day, 
"  owes  her  sovereignty  to  chance ;  I  owe  mine  to  the 
power  of  my  genius ! "  She  treated  even  the  most 
distinguished  of  her  colleagues  with  haughty  disdain, 
and  often  with  the  grossest  discourtesy ;  and  poor 

1  Colle,  Journal  ft  Memoircs,  iii.  6.  Colle  was  himself  intensely 
disgusted  by  the  conduct  of  Mile.  Clairon's  fanatical  admirers,  and 
declares  that  if  medals  were  to  be  struck  in  honour  of  an  actress,  who, 
after  all,  was  nothing  but  a  parrot,  then  statues — nay,  pyramids — ought 
to  be  raised  to  the  authors  whose  works  she  interpreted. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  323 

Mile.  Dangeville,  the  object  of  her  childish  adoration 
and  the  most  sweet-tempered  and  inoffensive  of  women, 
retired  from  the  stage  ten  years  earlier  than  she  would 
otherwise  have  done,  vowing  that  it  was  "  impossible  to 
live  any  longer  with  such  a  creature."  As  for  the  younger 
actresses,  they  positively  trembled  before  her ;  while, 
with  the  exception  of  Voltaire,  whose  admiration  for 
her  she  condescended  to  reciprocate,  there  is  said  to 
have  been  not  a  single  dramatic  author  of  the  time 
whom  she  had  not  insulted.  The  public  she  appears 
to  have  regarded  very  much  as  a  queen  might  her 
subjects.  On  the  occasion  of  a  free  performance  at  the 
Comedie,  given  by  order  of  the  King,  she  came  on  to  the 
stage  between  the  two  pieces  and  threw  handfuls  of  silver 
into  the  pit ;  and  the  worthy  Parisians,  quite  gulled  by 
this  piece  of  theatrical  quackery,  cried,  as  they  scrambled 
for  the  money,  "  Vvue  le  Roi  et  Mile.  Clairon  !  " 

Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  her  arrogance  and  absurd 
pretensions,  Mile.  Clairon  had  the  interests  of  her 
profession  sincerely  at  heart.  She  was,  according  to 
her  own  expression,  the  charge-d?  affaires  ^  the  advocate, 
and  the  postillion  of  the  Comedie-Fransaise,  and  it  was 
always  to  her  that  her  comrades  turned  when  in  any 
difficulty  or  perplexity.  It  was  through  her  influence, 
joined  to  that  of  the  Comte  de  Lauraguais,  that  the 
absurd  custom  of  allowing  the  more  distinguished 
members  of  the  audience  seats  upon  the  stage  itself 
— a  custom  which  seriously  hampered  the  movements 
of  the  players  and  was  utterly  destructive  of  all  scenic 
illusion — was  finally  abolished.  A  word  from  her  was 
sufficient  to  secure  the  payment  of  the  overdue  royal 
pension  to  the  Comedie,  which  the  semainiers  had 
vainly  solicited  from  the  Comptroller-General ;  and 


324      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

she  laboured  zealously,  if  unsuccessfully,  to  free  her 
profession  from  the  ban  of  the  Church,  which  had 
weighed  so  long  and  so  heavily  upon  it. 

In  the  spring  of  1761,  there  was  published,  at 
Amsterdam,  a  little  volume,  entitled  Libertt  de  la 
France  centre  le  pouvoir  arbitraire  de  V excommunication, 
outrage  dont  est  specialement  redevablc  aux  sentiments 
genereux  et  superieurs  de  Mile.  Clai  .  .  .  This  book, 
which  was  the  work  of  one  Huerne  de  la  Mothe, 
an  advocate  of  the  Parliament  of  Paris,  had  been 
inspired  by  Mile.  Clairon,  and  was  preceded  by  a 
letter  from  the  actress  to  the  author,  in  which  she 
announced  to  the  public  that  she  hesitated  to  exercise 
her  profession  any  longer,  owing  to  her  fear  of  the 
excommunication  to  which  it  subjected  her.  The  bigots, 
ecclesiastical  and  lay,  who  were  very  roughly  handled  in 
the  book,  were  exasperated  to  the  last  degree ;  the 
Grand'Chambre  issued  a  decree  ordering  the  obnoxious 
work  to  be  burned  by  the  public  executioner  in  the 
Place  de  Greve,  and  poor  Huerne  de  la  Mothe  was 
struck  off  the  roll  of  advocates.  Mile.  Clairon,  how- 
ever, who  felt  herself  to  be  the  cause  of  his  misfortune, 
did  not  allow  him  to  suffer  by  his  championship  of 
her  profession,  and  persuaded  the  Due  de  Choiseul  to 
nominate  him  to  a  lucrative  post  in  the  Ministry  of 
Foreign  Affairs. 

Mile.  Clairon  had  many  enemies :  enemies  in  her 
own  profession,  enemies  in  the  fashionable  world,  and 
enemies  in  the  Republic  of  Letters.  Two  of  the  most 
formidable  among  the  last-named  were  La  Harpe  and 
Freron,  the  critic,  the  sworn  foe  of  the  philosophers. 
La  Harpe  hated  her,  it  is  said,  because  she  had  con- 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  325 

temptuously  refused  to  act  in  his  plays ;  Freron,  because 
of  her  friendship  with  the  elders  of  the  Holy  Philoso- 
phical Church,  and,  more  especially,  with  its  Patriarch, 
Voltaire,  under  whose  blistering  ridicule  he  had  long 
writhed.  La  Harpe  contented  himself  by  making 
epigrams  about  her  in  society ;  but  Freron  went 
further,  and  dared  to  attack  her  in  print. 

There  had  recently  appeared  at  the  Com&iie  a  young, 
charming,  accomplished,  and,  mirabile  dictu,  virtuous 
actress,  named  Mile.  d'Oligny,  best  remembered  in 
theatrical  history  as  the  original  representative  of  Rosine 
in  Beaumarchais's  Barbier  de  Seville*  Freron,  who 
prided  himself  on  being  one  of  the  first  to  discover 
the  talent  of  this  lady,  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  contrasting  her  blameless  life  with  that  of  Mile 
Clairon,  and  proceeded  to  do  so  in  a  remarkably 
effective  manner. 

In  his  Annee  litteraire^  under  date  January  17,  1765, 
appeared  an  eloge  in  verse  of  Mile.  d'Oligny,  "who 
had  never  consented  to  listen  to  any  proposition  of 
fortune,  at  the  expense  of  her  innocence,"  followed  by 
a  paragraph  written  by  Freron  himself,  which,  although 
she  was  not  actually  mentioned  by  name,  no  one  could 
have  the  least  doubt  referred  to  Mile.  Clairon : — 

"  One  will  be  grateful  to  the  author  for  having  laid 
stress,  in  his  just  eloge  of  Mile.  d'Oligny,  on  her  irre- 
proachable conduct  up  to  the  present.  May  we  always 

1  She  refused  first,  the  protection,  and,  afterwards,  the  hand  of  the 
Marquis  de  Gouffier,  the  latter  on  the  ground  that  "while  esteeming 
herself  too  much  to  be  his  mistress,  she  esteemed  herself  too  little  to  be 
his  wife."  On  her  retirement  from  the  stage  in  1783,  Louis  XVI. 
granted  her  a  special  pension,  "  as  if  to  show  that  virtue  under  his  reign 
was  as  profitable  as  vice  had  been  under  hi«  predecessor." — Hawkins, 
"The  French  Stage  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,"  ii.  107  and  299. 


326      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

bear  in  mind  that  the  Muses  are  chaste,  and  that  they 
ought  never  to  sing  of  libertinism  and  prostitution ! 
Talents  of  the  rarest  order,  or  regarded  as  such,  do 
not  efface  the  opprobrium  of  a  dissolute  life.  One 
may  accord  a  certain  measure  of  esteem  to  the  per- 
formance of  the  actress,  but  the  seal  of  contempt  is 
always  stamped  upon  her  person.  It  is  in  vain  that, 
after  having  acquired  a  disgraceful  celebrity  through 
vice,  she  affects  a  grave  and  reserved  manner.  This 
tardy  and  false  decorum  only  serves  to  form  a  revolting 
contrast  with  a  youth  of  infamy,  and  I  do  not  know 
whether  one  does  not  prefer  that  a  creature  of  this 
species  should  constantly  show  herself  what  she  has 
been,  rather  than  appear  what  she  is  not.  The  frank- 
ness of  libertinism  is,  in  point  of  fact,  less  shocking 
than  the  mournful  simulation  of  dignity."  i 

Terrible  was  the  wrath  of  the  insulted  actress.  To 
the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber  she  flew,  and  announced 
her  intention  of  quitting  the  stage  forthwith,  and  for 
ever,  unless  condign  punishment  was  immediately  inflicted 
on  this  vile  scribbler  who  had  dared  to  traduce  her. 

To  pacify  her,  an  order  was  issued  for  the  arrest  of 
Freron  and  his  incarceration  in  For  l'Ev£que.  But 
when  the  police  proceeded  to  his  house  to  execute  it, 
they  found  the  critic  in  the  agonies  of  gout :  agonies 
so  acute  that  it  was  impossible,  he  declared,  to  move 
a  step  without  enduring  torments ;  and  his  friends 
contrived  to  obtain  a  suspension  of  his  sentence  until 
he  should  be  in  a  fit  state  to  leave  his  bed.  As  may 
be  supposed,  this  was  not  for  some  days,  and,  in  the 
meantime,  the  devout  Queen,  Marie  Leczinska,  whose 

1  L? Anntc  litteraire  par  M.  Freront  Lettre  V.  Janvier  1 7,  cited  by 
Edmond  de  Goncourt. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  327 

father  had  stood  sponsor  to  one  of  Fr£ron's  children, 
and  who  regarded  that  worthy  as  the  champion  of  the 
Faith  against  the  attacks  of  the  philosophers,  intervened 
on  his  behalf  and  obtained  a  further  respite. 

Mile.  Clairon  refused  to  abide  by  the  Queen's 
decision,  reiterated  her  determination  to  retire  from  the 
stage  if  Freron  were  not  punished,  and  demanded  an 
audience  of  the  Prime  Minister,  the  Due  de  Choiseul. 

"  Justice ! "  cried  she,  in  tragic  accents,  the  moment 
she  was  ushered  into  his  presence.  "Justice,  Monsieur 
le  Due ! " 

"  Mademoiselle,"  replied  the  Minister,  with  mock 
gravity,  "  you  and  I  both  perform  on  a  stage,  but 
there  is  this  difference  between  us :  you  choose  the 
parts  which  you  prefer,  and  are  sure  of  the  applause 
of  the  public.  There  are  only  a  few  persons  of  bad 
taste,  such  as  this  wretched  Freron,  who  refuse  you 
their  suffrages.  I,  on  the  contrary,  have  often  a  very 
disagreeable  task ;  I  strive  to  do  my  best,  and  am 
criticised,  condemned,  hissed,  and  ridiculed ;  yet,  I 
remain  at  my  post.  Let  us  both  of  us  sacrifice  our 
private  resentments  to  the  good  of  our  country,  and 
serve  it,  each  in  our  own  way,  to  the  best  of  our  ability. 
And,  besides,  the  Queen  having  pardoned,  you  can,  with- 
out compromising  your  dignity,  imitate  her  Majesty's 
clemency." 

Mile.  Clairon,  far  from  mollified  by  this  badinage, 
returned  home,  and  called  a  meeting  of  her  friends 
and  the  members  of  the  Comedie,  presided  over  by  the 
Due  de  Duras,  at  which  it  was  determined  that  the 
Comte  de  Saint-Florentin,  Commandeur  des  Ordres  to 
the  King,  should  be  threatened  with  the  desertion  of 
the  entire  troupe,  unless  speedy  justice  were  done  to  the 


328      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

modern  Melpomene.  "  This  line  of  conduct,"  writes 
Bachaumont,  "  has  greatly  disturbed  M.  de  Saint- 
Florentin.  This  Minister  has  written  to  the  Queen, 
stating  that  the  affair  has  become  one  of  the  vastest 
importance ;  that  for  a  very  long  time  no  matter  of 
such  serious  import  has  been  discussed  at  Court ;  that, 
in  fact,  the  Court  is  divided  into  two  factions  on  the 
question ;  and  that,  despite  his  profound  respect  for  the 
commands  of  her  Majesty,  he  much  fears  that  he  will  be 
compelled  to  obey  the  original  orders  of  the  King." 

However,  eventually,  the  matter  was  allowed  to  rest, 
and,  by  the  irony  of  Fate,  barely  two  months  had  passed 
before  Mile.  Clairon  herself  was  sent  to  For  TEve'que. 
And  this  was  how  it  came  about. 

After  the  Easter  recess  of  that  year,  the  Comedie- 
Francaise  was  announced  to  open  with  De  Belloy's  phe- 
nomenally successful  tragedy,  Le  Siege  de  Calais^  then 
at  the  height  of  its  popularity.  All  the  boxes  had  been 
engaged  for  several  performances,  and  there  was  every 
indication  of  a  most  successful  season.  An  unexpected 
incident  ruined  everything.  "An  actor  named  Dubois, 
who,"  says  Grimm,  "  had  for  the  last  twenty-nine  years 
enjoyed  the  confidence  of  all  the  tragic  heroes,"  had 
a  dispute  over  a  bill  with  a  surgeon  named  Benoit, 
whose  professional  services  he  had  had  occasion  to  seek, 
under  somewhat  discreditable  circumstances.  Dubois 
declared  that  he  had  paid  the  bill ;  Benoit  was  equally 
positive  that  he  had  not,  and  commenced  proceedings 
to  recover  the  amount  owing.  The  actor's  colleagues, 
annoyed  to  find  one  of  their  number  mixed  up  in  such 
an  affair,  brought  the  matter  to  the  notice  of  the 
Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber,  who  gave  them  permission 
to  decide  upon  it  themselves.  They,  accordingly,  held 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  329 

an  inquiry,  found  that  Dubois  had  lied — indeed,  he 
confessed  as  much — and,  at  the  instigation  of  Mile. 
Clairon,  and  with  the  approval  of  the  Gentlemen  of 
the  Chamber,  expelled  him  and  another  actor  named 
Blainville,  who  had  given  evidence  in  his  comrade's 
favour,  from  the  troupe. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Dubois  had  a  very  pretty 
daughter,  "who  possessed  the  power,"  says  Mile. 
Clairon,  "  of  rendering  the  Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber 
as  happy  as  they  could  desire  to  be."  Like  a  dutiful 
child,  she  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  cashiered 
actor,  and,  rushing,  with  dishevelled  hair,  into  the 
presence  of  the  Due  de  Fronsac — son  of  the  Marechal 
de  Richelieu — who  in  days  gone  by  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  paying  her  matutinal  visits,  disguised  as  a 
coffee-house  waiter,  besought  his  intervention  on  behalf 
of  her  unhappy  father,  the  innocent  victim,  she  declared, 
of  the  machinations  of  Mile.  Clairon. 

The  young  duke,  who  still  retained  for  the  lady 
some  remains  of  affection,  promised  to  do  what  he  could, 
with  the  result  that  on  April  15,  about  three  hours  be- 
fore the  play  was  announced  to  begin,  an  order  arrived 
from  Versailles,  to  the  effect  that  Dubois  was  to  be 
allowed  to  take  his  usual  part,  until  the  King  should 
decide  on  his  fitness  to  remain  a  royal  player. 

A  meeting  of  the  company  was  hurriedly  summoned, 
and  a  deputation  sent  to  one  of  the  Gentlemen  of  the 
Chamber  who  happened  to  be  in  Paris,  to  endeavour 
to  obtain  a  rescission  of  the  order,  for  that  evening 
at  least.  But  the  deputation  returned  and  reported 
the  failure  of  its  mission ;  the  "  Gentleman "  had  pro- 
fessed himself  unable  to  do  anything  without  consulting 
his  colleagues.  Thereupon,  five  members  of  the  troupe, 


330      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

Mile.  Clairon,  Lekain,  Brizard,  Mole,  and  d'Auberval, 
declared  their  intention  of  refusing  to  play.  Cost  them 
what  it  might,  they  were  absolutely  determined  never 
to  appear  upon  the  stage  with  Dubois  again.  Such 
was  the  position  of  affairs,  when,  at  half-past  five,  the 
Comedie  opened  its  doors.  Let  us  listen  to  Colic's 
account  of  the  scene  which  followed : — 

"  The  audience  assembled  to  witness  Le  Siege  de 
Calais;  it  had  been  impossible  to  change  the  bills  an- 
nouncing the  performance.  When  half-past  five  came, 
Lekain,  Mol6,  and  Brizard  had  not  arrived.  Mile. 
Clairon  had  shown  herself,  but,  perceiving  and  knowing 
that  these  gentlemen  had  no  intention  of  appearing, 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  dress,  and  went  home  in  the 
sedan-chair  which  had  brought  her  to  the  theatre.  The 
remainder  of  the  players,  who  were  very  reluctant  to 
acquaint  the  public  with  this  unwelcome  news,  were 
at  a  loss  what  to  do.  Ultimately,  towards  six  o'clock, 
one  of  them  left  his  comrades,  went  on  to  the  stage, 
and  began,  in  trembling  accents,  to  address  the  audience 
with :  *  Messieurs,  we  are  in  despair — '  He  was  inter- 
rupted by  some  one  in  the  pit,  who  shouted,  '  We 
want  no  despair !  Calais  I '  And,  in  an  instant,  the 
entire  public  took  up  the  cry  and  shouted :  '  Calais ! 
Calais!' 

"  After  this  first  tumult  had  somewhat  subsided,  the 
actor  wished  to  commence  his  speech,  but  the  audience 
declined  to  hear  any  more.  Some  minutes  passed  thus, 
and  then  the  actor  briefly  explained  the  impossibility 
of  performing  the  tragedy  in  question,  and  proposed  to 
play  Le  Joueur  in  its  place,  or  to  return  the  public  their 
money ;  only  to  be  received  with  renewed  cries,  more 
violent  than  before,  of  *  Calais  !  Calais  ! ' 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  331 

"  A  moment  later,  Preville,  the  idol  of  the  public, 
came  on  to  the  stage  and  endeavoured  to  begin  the  first 
scene  of  Le  Joueur,  but  was  interrupted,  hooted,  and 
hissed  by  the  audience,  who  cried  in  a  kind  of  frenzy : 
'  Calais ! '  Several  persons  in  the  pit,  who  were  aware 
that  it  was  through  the  intrigues  and  machinations  of 
Mile.  Clairon  that  the  players  had  so  signally  failed  the 
public,  shouted :  'Calais,  et  Clairon  en  •prison !  Fretillon  a 
rhdpital  / *  Fretillon  aux  cabanons  ! ' 

"  No  doubt  the  majority  of  those  who  uttered  these 
blasphemies  were  partisans  of  the  Dubois,  who  had  been 
posted  by  her  and  her  father  in  the  pit.  This  pande- 
monium, which  might  have  become  a  scene  of  blood- 
shed, if  the  Guards  on  duty  had  chosen  to  interfere, 
lasted  until  seven  o'clock,  when  the  audience  had  their 
money  returned  to  them." 

The  following  morning,  there  was  a  consultation 
between  Sartines,  the  Lieutenant  of  Police,  and  the 
Gentlemen  of  the  Chamber,  when  it  was  decided  to 
make  an  example  of  Mile.  Clairon  and  the  other 
recalcitrant  players.  The  actress,  who  happened  to  be 
unwell,  was  in  bed,  and  her  friend  Madame  de  Sauvigny, 
wife  of  the  Intendant  of  Paris,  was  nursing  her,  when 
an  inspector  of  police  arrived  and  intimated  that  he  had 
an  order  from  the  King  to  conduct  Mile.  Clairon  to 
For  1'Eveque.  Madame  de  Sauvigny  protested  against 
the  arrest  of  her  "  best  friend,"  but  the  exempt  was 
inexorable,  and  Mile.  Clairon  informed  him  that  she 
would  submit  to  the  orders  of  the  King.  "  All  that  I 
have,"  cried  she,  in  her  best  stage  manner,  "  is  at  his 

1  To  which  institution  women  of  loose  character  who  had  misbehaved 
themselves  were  sent. 

2  Colle,  Memoires  et  Journal^  iii.  2J  et  seq. 


332      QUEENS   OF  THE  FRENCH   STAGE 

Majesty's  disposal — my  property,  my  person,  and  my  life 
are  in  his  hands.  But  my  honour  is  untouched,  and  of 
that  not  even  the  King  can  deprive  me." 

The  man  of  law  bethought  him  of  an  old  legal 
maxim.  "  Very  true,  Mademoiselle,"  he  replied,  "  for 
where  there  is  nothing,  the  King  loses  his  rights." 

Madame  de  Sauvigny  insisted  that  Mile.  Clairon 
should  proceed  to  For  l'Eve"que  in  her  own  carriage  and 
announced  her  intention  of  accompanying  her.  But, 
as  the  carriage  in  question  happened  to  be  a  vis-h-vis, 
and  the  exempt  refused  to  lose  sight  of  his  prisoner,  the 
noble  lady  was  constrained  to  seat  her  friend  upon  her 
knees,  and  in  this  singular  fashion  they  traversed  the 
streets  of  Paris.1 

At  For  I'Eve'que,  the  famous  actress  was  treated 
more  like  a  distinguished  guest  than  a  prisoner.  The 
most  comfortable  room  available  was  allotted  her,  and 
furnished  in  luxurious  fashion  by  her  sympathising 
friends,  the  Duchesses  de  Duras  and  de  Villeroi  and 
Madame  de  Sauvigny ;  the  courtyard  of  the  fortress  was 
crowded  every  day  by  the  carriages  of  those  who  came 
to  offer  her  their  sympathy,  and  she  was  permitted 
to  give  delightful  little  supper  parties.  In  less  than 
a  week,  a  complaisant  physician  having  certified  that 
further  detention  would  be  prejudicial  to  the  lady's 
health,  she  was  permitted  to  return  home,  under  certain 
conditions,  which  she  alludes  to  in  a  letter  to  Garrick, 
in  answer  to  one  of  sympathy  from  the  English  actor  : — 

"PARIS,  May  9,  1765. 

"My.  soul,  penetrated  by  a  treatment  as  barbarous 
as  it  is  unjust,  had  need,  my  dear  friend,  of  the  pleasure 

1  Colic,  Memoires  et  Journal,  Hi.  31. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  333 

that  your  letter  has  brought  to  it.  This  letter  has 
interrupted  for  some  moments  the  indignation  and  grief 
which  consume  me.  Never  has  my  health  occasioned 
me  so  much  anxiety,  never  have  the  mischances  to  which 
I  am  subjected  been  so  multiplied,  so  violent.  But  be 
tranquil ;  my  courage  is  superior  to  all  my  misfortunes. 

"  Will  you  credit  it  ?  my  comrades  are  still  in 
prison !  I  myself  was  released  the  fifth  day,  but  have 
been  placed  under  arrest  at  my  house,  and  prohibited 
from  receiving  more  than  six  specified  persons.  It  is 
said  that  Dubois  has  tendered  his  resignation ;  it  is  to 
be  hoped  that  it  will  be  accepted,  and  that  we  shall 
be  at  liberty  this  evening  or  to-morrow ;  it  is  time  we 
were !  As  they  have  refused  to  permit  any  of  my 
comrades  to  come  and  see  me,  I  am  in  ignorance  of  what 
they  think  and  what  they  intend  to  do. 

"  I  am  resolved  not  to  give  them  any  advice,  but  to 
occupy  myself  only  with  my  own  position,  and,  above 
all,  with  the  esteem  of  honest  people ;  I  dare  to  be  con- 
fident that  I  shall  obtain  that.  I  shall  not  share  with 
you  my  reflections  on  the  past,  the  present,  and  the 
future  ;  not  that  I  fear  to  submit  them  to  your  intelli- 
gence and  your  friendship,  but  because  my  letter  might 
be  opened,  and  they  might  misinterpret  me  ;  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  afford  them  any  pretext  for  persecution. 
Embrace  Madame  Garrick  for  me,  and  rest  assured  both 
of  you  that  I  love,  esteem,  and  regret  you  as  much  as 
possible,  and  as  you  have  the  right  to  expect  from  the 
most  sensitive  and  grateful  of  hearts. 

"CLAIRON."1 

1  "Private  Correspondence  of  David  Garrick,"  ii.  432.  Soon  after 
this,  Garrick  very  generously  offered  Mile.  Clairon  a  loan  of  500  guineas, 
which,  however,  was  not  accepted. 


334      QUEENS  OF   THE  FRENCH   STAGE 

After  about  three  weeks  of  seclusion,  Mile.  Clairon 
was  permitted  to  resume  her  ordinary  life,  and  as  Dubois, 
the  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  had  now  resigned,  it  was 
anticipated  that  she  would  appear  again  upon  the  stage. 
On  the  plea  of  ill-health,  however,  she  declined  to  return 
to  the  theatre,  and,  about  the  middle  of  June,  it  was 
common  knowledge  that  the  actress  had  requested  per- 
mission to  retire  from  the  stage.  The  Marechal  de 
Richelieu,  First  Gentleman  of  the  Chamber,  refused  her 
request,  asserting  that  he  would  never  consent  to  sign 
her  ordre  de  retraite  during  his  year  of  office,  but  offered 
to  grant  her  leave  of  absence  till  the  following  Easter— 
that  is  to  say,  until  the  end  of  the  theatrical  year,  in 
order  that  she  might  have  time  to  go  to  Geneva  and 
consult  the  celebrated  doctor,  Tronchin. 

To  Geneva  she  accordingly  went,  and  obtained  the 
advice  she  came  to  seek ;  Tronchin,  who,  great  man 
though  he  was,  was  not  above  humouring  the  whims  of 
his  distinguished  patients,  assuring  her  that  he  would  not 
answer  for  the  consequences  if  she  returned  to  the  stage. 

From  Geneva  she  proceeded  to  Ferney,  in  response 
to  a  pressing  invitation  from  its  master,  who  assured  her 
that  it  was  "  a  temple  where  incense  was  burning  for  her," 
and  that  "  to  see  and  hear  her  would  be  his  Fountain 
of  Youth." 

When  she  reached  Ferney,  Voltaire  was  ill,  but  no 
sooner  had  she  declaimed  her  part  in  his  Orphelin  de 
la  Chine,  than  he  professed  himself  completely  cured. 
During  her  stay,  she  performed  several  times  in  the  little 
theatre  of  the  chateau,  playing  Amena'lde  in  Tancrede 
and  Electre  in  Oreste,  and  the  delighted  poet  wrote  to 
d'Argental  that  in  the  latter  character  "  she  had  shaken 
the  Alps  and  Mont  Jura  " ;  while,  in  a  letter  to  Monnet, 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  335 

he  declared  that  she  had  "  made  him  feel  twenty  years 
younger."1 

On  leaving  Ferney  Mile.  Clairon  went  to  Provence, 
to  visit  the  Comte  de  Valbelle.  While  there,  she 
attended  the  theatre  at  Marseilles,  and,  on  being  recog- 
nised, was  loudly  cheered  by  the  occupants  of  the  pit, 
who  cried :  "  Le  Siege  de  Calais  et  Mile.  Clairon ! "  and 
refused  to  desist  until  the  governor  of  the  province, 
the  Due  de  Villars,  had  promised  to  do  all  he  could  to 
persuade  the  actress  to  gratify  them. 

At  the  beginning  of  November,  she  was  again  in 
Paris,  where  great  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
her  to  induce  her  to  reconsider  her  determination  to 
retire  from  the  stage.  On  one  condition  only  would  she 
consent  to  forget  the  horrors  of  For  I'Eve'que,  namely, 
that  the  Comedie-Fran9aise  should  be  erected  into  a 
Royal  Academy  of  the  Drama,  which  would  have  the 
effect  of  giving  a  legal  status  to  its  members,  and  would 
pave  the  way  for  the  removal  of  the  ecclesiastical  ban. 
A  petition  was  accordingly  drawn  up,  which  had  the 
support  of  the  Due  de  Duras,  the  Due  d'Aumont,  and 
several  other  important  personages,  and  submitted  to  the 

1  It  seems  to  have  been  as  a  kind  of  return  for  the  homage  paid  her 
at  Ferney,  that,  towards  the  end  of  1772,  Mile.  Clairon  organised,  at 
her  house  in  Paris,  the  apotheosis  of  Voltaire,  "  in  which  she  displayed 
all  the  riches  of  her  imagination."  "  The  bust  of  Voltaire,"  says 
Bachaumont,  "  was  placed  pompously  in  the  midst  of  the  assembly,  when 
M.  Marmontel,  the  coryphee  of  the  house,  presented  an  ode,  composed  by 
himself,  in  honour  of  the  new  god  of  Pindar.  Mile.  Clairon,  habited  as 
a  priestess  of  Apollo,  placed  a  crown  of  laurel  on  the  bust,  and  recited 
the  ode  with  the  most  vehement  enthusiasm.  The  assembly  applauded 
loudly."  This  piece  of  adulation,  grotesque  though  it  was,  seems  to  have 
been  far  from  displeasing  to  the  Patriarch,  who  returned  thanks  in  a  letter 
in  verse,  wherein  he  assured  the  lady  that  "  his  glory  was  entirely  her 
work." — Gueullette,  Acteurs  et  Actrices  du  Temps  passe,  p.  316. 


336      QUEENS  OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

King.  But,  owing  apparently  to  the  maladroit  way  in 
which  the  Due  de  Duras,  who  had  charge  of  the  memoir, 
presented  his  case,  it  was  refused ;  and,  at  the  following 
Easter,  Mile.  Clairon  demanded  her  conge,  which  was 
accorded  her.  Here  is  the  ordre  de  retraite : — 

"  We,  Marechal  Due  de  Richelieu,  pair  de  France, 
First  Gentleman  of  the  King's  Chamber  ; 

"  We,  Due  de  Duras,  pair  de  France,  First  Gentleman 
of  the  King's  Chamber ; 

"  Mile.  Clairon,  after  having  served  the  King  and 
the  public  for  twenty-two  years  with  the  greatest  assi- 
duity and  the  greatest  attention,  finding  herself  com- 
pelled, on  account  of  her  health,  to  quit  the  theatre,  we 
have  accorded  her  leave  to  retire,  with  the  pension  in 
conformity  with  the  regulations. 
-(Signed) 

"THE  MARECHAL  Due  DE  RICHELIEU. 
"  THE  Due  DE  DuRAS.1 

"  Executed  at  Paris,  April  23,  1766." 

For  some  years  after  her  retirement  from  the  stage 
Mile.  Clairon  resided  in  a  house  near  the  Pont-Royal, 
where  Marmontel  speaks  of  her  receptions  as  "  numerous 
and  brilliant."  She  frequently  consented  to  recite  some 
of  her  famous  roles  at  the  houses  of  her  aristocratic 
friends,  and  Horace  Walpole  writes,  under  date  August 
23,  1767  :  "Arrived  in  Paris  at  a  quarter  before  seven; 

1  Mile.  Clairon  had  demanded  a  pension  of  1500  livres,  though 
thirty  years'  service  was  required  to  entitle  her  to  this.  It  is  probable, 
however,  that  her  request  would  have  been  granted,  but  for  the  opposition 
of  Lekain,  who  had  not  forgiven  her  for  her  treatment  of  him  in  years 
gone  by. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  337 

at  eight  to  Madame  du  Deffand's ;  found  the  Clairon 
acting  Agrippine  and  Phedre ;  not  tall,  but  I  like  her 
acting  better  than  I  expected.  Supped  with  her  and  the 
Duchesses  de  Villeroi  and  d'Aiguillon." 

Although  she  never  again  appeared  on  the  boards  of 
the  Com£die-Fran9aise,  the  great  tragedienne  performed 
on  several  occasions  in  private  theatres.  On  February 
19,  1767,  she  played  Zelmire  in  De  Belloy's  tragedy  of 
that  name,  at  the  Hotel  d'Esclapon,  Rue  de  Vaugirard, 
at  a  performance  arranged  for  the  benefit  of  Mole.1 
Again,  in  December  1768,  she  appeared  as  Dido  and 
Roxane  in  Bajazet,  at  the  little  theatre  belonging  to  the 
Duchesse  de  Villeroi,  before  the  King  of  Denmark  and 
the  Prince  of  Saxe-Gotha.  Grimm  writes: — 

"  The  Duchesse  de  Villeroi  has  reserved  to  herself 
the  right  of  doing  the  honours  to  Mile.  Clairon  in  her 
little  theatre.  This  celebrated  actress  played  there  twice, 
in  the  presence  of  the  King  of  Denmark,  the  Hereditary 
Prince  of  Saxe-Gotha,  and  a  little  chosen  company,  for 
the  theatre  can  only  accommodate  a  hundred  and  ten 
persons.  The  first  time,  she  played  the  part  of  Dido, 
and  the  second,  that  of  Roxane,  in  the  tragedy  of  Bajazet. 
After  the  play,  she  was  presented  by  Madame  de  Villeroi 
to  her  august  spectator,  who  drew  a  ring  from  his  finger 
and  placed  it  on  the  finger  of  the  actress ;  but  I  know 
that,  in  spite  of  this  royal  courtesy,  he  had  not  the 
happiness  to  succeed  with  the  illustrious  Clairon.  In 
her  quality  of  Dido,  she  will  not  have  found  him  tender 
enough ;  in  her  quality  of  Roxane,  she  will  not  have 
found  him  sufficiently  humble ;  in  her  quality  of  Clairon, 

1  The  takings,  at  a  louis  a  head,  amounted  to  24,000  livres,  which 
sum,  if  we  are  to  believe  Bachaumont,  was  spent  by  Mole,  not  in  paying 
his  debts,  but  in  buying  diamonds  for  his  mistress. 

Y 


338      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

she  will  not  have  found  him  sufficiently  penetrated  with 
admiration.  In  fact,  notwithstanding  the  infatuation  of 
the  Court  and  the  town  for  the  young  monarch,  he  has 
had  the  misfortune  to  displease  the  heroine  of  the 
Theatre-Frauds." l 

Finally,  on  the  occasion  of  the  fe"tes  at  Versailles,  in 
honour  of  the  marriage  of  the  Dauphin  and  Marie- 
Antoinette,  in  the  spring  of  1770,  Mile.  Clairon 
appeared  as  Athalie  and  Amena'fde.  But  five  years  of 
retirement  had  naturally  not  been  without  their  effect 
upon  her  powers,  and  her  acting  seems  to  have  caused 
general  disappointment.  Perhaps  her  unfortunate  choice 
of  a  gown,  "  half-brown,  half-yellow,  which  gave  her  the 
appearance  of  a  shrivelled-up  old  woman,"  had  not  a 
little  to  do  with  her  comparative  failure  as  Voltaire's 
heroine. 

An  impression  prevailed  at  this  time  that  had 
Louis  XV.  only  condescended  to  express  a  desire  that 
Mile.  Clairon  should  return  to  the  Comedie-Fran9aise, 
she  would  have  consented  to  do  so.  But  Louis  XV. 
was  not  such  an  admirer  of  the  lady's  acting  as  Voltaire 
— indeed,  he  seems  to  have  preferred  Mile.  Dumesnil— 
and  when,  three  years  before,  Mile.  Clairon  had  caused 
him  to  be  informed  that  she  was  prepared  to  play  at 
Versailles  as  often  as  his  Majesty  might  command  her, 
had  replied,  to  her  intense  chagrin,  that  he  found  the 
other  actresses  very  capable.2 

On  her  retirement  from  the  theatre,  Mile.  Clairon 
had  opened  a  kind  of  dramatic  academy.  Here  she 
trained  a  number  of  aspirants  to  histrionic  fame,  several 
of  whom  were  destined  to  make  their  mark  in  years  to 

1   Correspondance  litter  air e^  vi.  75. 
2  Letter  of  Madame  Riccoboni  to  Garrick,  January  29,  1767. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  339 

come.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  beautiful 
Mile.  Raucourt,  herself,  in  her  turn,  the  Queen  of  the 
Com6die-Fran?aise,  and  that  excellent  actor,  Larive. 

For  Larive,  the  ex-fragJdienne  appears  to  have  con- 
ceived an  almost  maternal  affection,  leaving  no  stone 
unturned  to  ensure  his  success  upon  the  stage,  and 
corresponding  with  him  regularly  for  many  years. 
Her  early  letters  are  chiefly  of  a  professional  kind : 
advice  as  to  the  way  in  which  certain  parts  are  to 
be  played,  as  to  the  costumes  suitable  to  those  parts, 
and  so  forth.  But  occasionally  we  find  her  descending 
to  more  personal  matters,  rallying  him  on  his  bonnes 
fortunes,  and  moralising  in  the  style  of  an  indulgent 
elder  brother. 

"  You  have  then  made  a  conquest,"  she  writes,  "  and 
of  a  fine  lady,  you  say  ?  I  am  not  astonished,  since  you 
are  a  very  handsome  man.  But  I  cannot  prevent  myself 
from  telling  you  that  you  are  a  great  imbecile.  If  she 
is  a  woman  who  makes  a  profession  of  gallantry,  or  a 
marriageable  girl,  you  ought  certainly  to  refuse  to 
have  anything  to  do  with  her.  A  man  should  avoid 
the  first,  for  fear  of  accidents,  and  never  have  to 
reproach  himself  with  having  corrupted  the  other. 
But  if  she  be  a  married  woman  or  a  widow,  that  is 
current  coin,  the  property  of  every  one,  and  you 
will  be  doing  wrong  not  to  make  use  of  it.  No 
engagement,  no  prejudice,  need  restrain  you.  You 
are  a  man,  young ;  you  are  bored.  Guarantee  your- 
self a  serious  attachment ;  that  is  an  excellent  thing ; 
but  why  refuse  to  your  senses,  and  to  the  necessity  of 
diverting  your  mind,  the  tribute  which  both  demand  ? " 

In  a  letter,  which,  like  the  above,  bears  no  date,  but 
which  was  probably  written  in  the  summer  of  1772,  we 


340      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

find   a   person  mentioned  who  was   to  play  a  very  im- 
portant part  in  Mile.  Clairon's  future  life  : — 

"  You  have  extended  your  hospitality  to  a  dog ;  I 
have  extended  mine  to  a  little  boy.  Mol£  sent  me  an 
unhappy  widow  with  six  children  in  want  of  bread.  I 
have  taken  charge  of  one,  and  am  busying  myself  in 
finding  means  to  allow  the  rest  to  live.  I  shall  not 
keep  the  child  at  my  house;  he  is  a  little  devil,  and 
that  annoys  and  wearies  me.  But  since  he  bears  a  close 
resemblance  to  the  Margrave  (of  Anspach),  whom  I  am 
expecting  to  see  arrive  here  this  autumn,  I  have  taken 
the  child,  in  the  hope  of  sending  him  to  Germany.  If 
that  plan  falls  through,  I  shall  put  him  to  a  trade, 
and  pay  his  apprenticeship  to  whatever  one  his  mother 
may  choose." 

Christian  Frederick  Charles  Alexander,  Margrave  of 
Anspach,  Baireuth,  and  Brandenburg,  Duke  of  Prussia, 
Count  of  Sayn,  was  the  son  of  Frederick  the  Great's  sister, 
Frederika  Louise,  and  that  potentate's  favourite  nephew. 
Born  in  1736,  and  married,  against  his  will,  by  his  father, 
to  a  princess  of  Saxe-Coburg,  "  who  resembled  a  faded 
lily  which  had  begun  to  grow  yellow,"  he  spent  the 
greater  part  of  his  time  in  travelling  in  Italy,  Holland, 
and  France,  and  "  gratifying  his  tastes  for  the  arts  and 
feminine  society.*' 

The  Margrave  was  not  handsome,  in  fact,  his  ap- 
pearance was  distinctly  unprepossessing.  He  had  "  a  re- 
treating forehead,  sunken  eyes,  a  nose  like  a  trumpet,  an 
enormously  long  peaked  chin,  and  a  long  ungainly  neck." 
On  the  other  hand,  he  was  well-educated,  sensible,  and 
good-natured ;  "  the  best  prince  in  Germany,"  said  the 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  341 

Austrian  Chancellor,  Kaunitz,  who  was  certainly  in  a 
position  to  judge. 

The  Margrave  fell  in  love  with  Mile.  Clairon,  who, 
though  nearly  old  enough  to  be  his  mother,  was  still 
pretty  ;  and,  on  the  occasion  of  one  of  his  frequent 
visits  to  Paris,  invited  her  to  return  with  him  to 
Anspach  and  be  his  Margravine  of  the  left-hand.  To 
the  ex-tragJdienne,  who  had  so  often  played  the  queen 
upon  the  stage,  the  prospect  of  occupying  a  quasi- 
royal  position  at  this  little  German  court  was  not 
without  its  attractions ;  perhaps  ere  long,  she  thought, 
the  faded-lily  princess  might  wither  away  altogether, 
in  which  event  the  consort  of  the  left-hand  might  be- 
come the  consort  of  the  right.  Moreover,  her  vanity 
was  naturally  flattered  by  the  homage  of  a  man  twelve 
years  her  junior,  and  that  man  a  Serene  Highness ! 
And,  finally,  it  happened  that  she  had  just  quarrelled 
violently  with  the  Comte  de  Valbelle,  who,  not  content 
with  an  occasional  infidelity,  as  had  been  the  case  in 
the  early  days  of  their  connection,  had  become  a  sort 
of  professional  Don  Juan,  who  "  brought  daily  pretty 
girls  into  his  park,"  outraged  husbands,  supplanted 
lovers,  and,  in  short,  misconducted  himself  in  so 
shocking  a  manner  that,  according  to  his  disgusted 
mistress,  "  every  one  detested  him  from  the  bottom 
of  their  hearts." 

And  so  it  came  about  that,  one  fine  day  in  the  spring 
of  1773,  Mile.  Clairon  bade  farewell  to  all  her  friends  in 
Paris,  and  set  out  for  Anspach,  whence  she  wrote  to  the 
faithless  Valbelle  that  it  was  her  intention  "  to  consecrate 
the  remainder  of  her  days  "  to  the  Margrave. 

At  Anspach,  Mile.  Clairon  remained  for  seventeen 
years.  Our  chief  source  of  information  in  regard  to 


342      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

this  period  of  her  career  are  her  own  letters  to  her 
old  pupil,  Larive,  with  whom  she  continued  to  cor- 
respond regularly.  In  the  earliest  of  these,  she  can 
hardly  find  words  to  describe  the  joys  of  her  new  life. 

"  I  am  very  well,"  she  writes,  shortly  after  her  in- 
stallation, "  and  taking  into  consideration  the  care,  the 
homage,  the  comforts,  the  kindnesses,  and  the  marks 
of  attachment  that  are  lavished  upon  me,  it  would 
be  impossible  for  my  heart  and  my  vanity  not  to 
be  satisfied.  My  house  does  not  grow  less  full ; 
the  greatest  ladies  do  me  the  honour  of  supping 
with  me.  You  cannot  form  any  idea  of  the  posi- 
tion I  occupy  in  this  country.  I  believe  that  I  am 
in  a  dream.  Sometimes  I  am  tempted  to  imagine 
myself  a  personage  .  .  ." 

And  again,  under  date  October  15,  1773  : — 

"  Would  to  Heaven,  my  dear  child,  that  I  had  you 
near  me !  I  should  then  be  able  to  say  that  never  had  I 
been  so  happy.  Every  comfort,  no  kind  of  vexation, 
consideration,  a  commodious  and  beautiful  house,  a 
well-ordered,  pleasant,  and  honourable  life  independ- 
ent of  the  caprices  which  formerly  troubled  me,  the 
impossibility  of  meeting  ungrateful  people,  of  seeing 
or  hearing  anything  which  recalls  them,  the  opportu- 
nity of  doing  good — all  this  renders  my  life  infinitely 
sweet.  Add  to  all  these  blessings  the  certainty  of 
making  the  happiness  of  the  sweetest  and  kindest 
being  I  have  ever  known.  After  you  had  seen  him, 
you  would  love  him :  that  is  nothing ;  one  cannot 
form  any  idea  of  this  good  prince,  unless  you  live 
with  him.  I  see  him  every  day,  and  am  equally  as- 
tonished at  his  frankness  and  the  noble  simplicity  that 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  343 

characterises  all  his  actions.  It  is  for  such  sovereigns 
that  it  is  just  and  right  to  sacrifice  one's  life,  and  I 
feel  no  regret  at  having  sacrificed  mine  to  him." 

But  this  enthusiasm  does  not  last  long,  and,  before 
twelve  months  have  passed,  we  find  Mademoiselle  com- 
plaining of  everything  at  Anspach,  from  the  air  to  the 
cooking.  In  one  letter  she  tells  her  correspondent 
that  "  the  air  of  the  country  and  ennui  are  killing 
her";  in  another,  that  she  has  had  to  send  for  a 
French  cook,  because  the  Anspach  cooking  "  displeased 
as  much  as  it  disagreed  with  her " ; l  in  a  third,  that 
she  has  had  to  abandon  an  attempt  to  establish  a 
theatre  at  the  Court,  "  because  there  are  scarcely  a 
dozen  persons  there  who  can  carry  on  a  conversation 
in  French,  while  the  rest  do  not  understand  a  word 
of  the  language " ;  and,  in  a  fourth,  that  "  the  women 
of  this  country  are  destitute  of  every  grace  to  which 
your  eyes  are  accustomed." 

The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that  the  Court  of 
Anspach  did  not  approve  of  the  advent  of  Mile. 
Clairon  ;  it  feared  that  her  installation  would,  sooner 
or  later,  be  followed  by  an  invasion  of  her  compatriots, 
who  would  seize  upon  all  the  most  lucrative  posts 
in  the  State,  and  generally  upset  the  established  order 
of  things.  Neither  had  the  Ministers  been  educated 
to  serve  under  a  maitresse  en  titre,  as  had  those  of 

l  "  During  this  time,  Mile.  Clairon  was  living  at  the  Margrave's 
expense,  with  four  French  servants  in  livery,  Madame  Senay,  her 
femme-dc-chambrc,  and  a  lackey,  besides  a  French  cook.  The  Margrave 
supplied  her  with  the  best  wines  from  his  cellar.  Her  expenses  were 
enormous,  and  all  paid  from  the  Chamber  of  Finances  of  Anspach. 
These  facts  I  had  from  the  Marechaux  of  the  Court." — "  Memoirs  of 
Elizabeth  Berkeley,  Margravine  of  Anspach,"  i.  210. 


344      QUEENS  OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

France ;  they  resented  the  interference  of  a  woman — 
especially  a  foreigner — in  the  counsels  of  their  master, 
and  one  of  them,  if  Mile.  Clairon  is  to  be  believed, 
actually  carried  his  resentment  so  far  as  to  conspire 
against  her  life.  Moreover,  although  the  poor  Mar- 
gravine herself  was  compelled,  through  fear  of  her 
husband's  anger,  to  treat  her  rival  with  courtesy, 
and  even  to  invite  her  to  her  table,  the  other  ladies 
of  the  Margrave's  family,  like  the  Duchesse  of  Wtlr- 
temburg  and  the  Margravine  of  Baireuth,  absolutely 
refused  to  recognise  the  tx~trag4dtetuut  and  the  feminine 
portion  of  the  Court  seems  to  have  taken  its  cue 
from  them,  rather  than  from  its  nominal  head. 

However,  in  spite  of  difficulties  and  mortifications, 
Mile.  Clairon  remained  at  her  post,  and,  according  to 
her  own  account,  used  the  influence  she  had  acquired 
over  the  Margrave  in  a  highly  beneficent  manner ; 
destroying  abuses,  reforming  the  finances,  encouraging 
agriculture,  and  so  forth.  She  also  beautified  the  city 
of  Anspach  by  an  ornamental  fountain,  established  a 
hospital,  distributed  considerable  sums  in  charity,  and 
was  very  popular  among  the  poorer  classes. 

In  the  course  of  the  year  1789,  Mile.  Clairon  found 
herself  called  up  to  face  a  rival  influence.  The  eccentric 
and  "  infinitamentc  indiscreet,"  1  but  charming  and  accom- 
plished Elizabeth,  Countess  of  Craven,  descended  upon 
Anspach.  The  countess  had  separated  from  her 
husband  in  1780,  since  which  she  had  spent  the 
greater  part  of  her  time  in  wandering  about  the  Con- 
tinent. In  the  course  of  her  travels,  she  had  met 
the  Margrave,  whom  she  had  known  when  she  was  a 
child,  and  who  invited  her  to  Anspach.  She  came, 
1  Horace  Walpole  to  Sir  Horace  Mann,  March  7,  1785. 


ELIZABETH  BERKELEY,  COUNTESS  OF  CRAVEN, 

AFTERWARDS  MARGRAVINE  OF 

ANSPACH 

After  the  drawing  by  Sir  JOSHUA  REYNOLDS 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  345 

and  her  stay  was  a  long  one.  She  infused  new  life 
into  that  dull  German  Court ;  she  organised  a  theatre 
in  a  disused  coach-house,  and  wrote  little  plays  for  it ; 
she  had  a  garden  laid  out  in  the  English  style,  under 
her  direction,  at  the  Margrave's  palace  of  Triesdorf, 
near  Anspach ;  she  founded  a  little  academy  for  the 
encouragement  of  literature  and  the  arts,  and  found 
means  to  amuse  even  the  unamusable  Margravine. 
Finally,  she  stole  away  the  heart  of  the  Margrave  from 
his  grey-haired  Egeria,  and  wrote  to  her  husband,  with 
whom  she  still  corresponded,  that  she  was  to  be  "  treated 
as  a  sister." 

At  length,  Lady  Craven  left  for  Paris.  Soon  after- 
wards, the  Margrave  announced  his  intention  of  visiting 
the  French  capital ;  Mile.  Clairon  decided  to  accompany 
him.  In  Paris,  the  Margrave  favoured  her  with  so  little 
of  his  company  that  she  felt  constrained  to  inquire  the 
reason. 

The  prince  returned  an  evasive  answer;  Mile. 
Clairon  caused  a  watch  to  be  kept  upon  his  move- 
ments, and  discovered  the  fatal  truth.  So  long  as 
the  Margrave  remained  in  Paris,  the  deceived  sultana, 
by  a  great  effort  of  will,  succeeded  "  in  concealing 
beneath  a  countenance  always  calm,  and  sometimes 
laughing,  the  rending  tortures  of  mind  and  body." 
But  when  the  prince  returned  to  Anspach,  she  declined 
to  follow  him,  and  sent  instead  a  long  and  reproachful 
letter,  wherein  she  informed  him  that  "  his  frenzied 
passion  for  a  woman  of  whose  character,  unfortunately,  he 
alone  was  ignorant,  his  indifference  to  public  opinion,  the 
license  of  his  new  morals,  his  want  of  respect  for  his  age 
and  his  dignity,  obliged  her  to  see  in  him  only  one  who 
had  thrown  aside  all  restraint  and  decency  in  compliance 


346      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

with  the  dictates  of  a  depraved  heart,  or  as  one  whose 
disordered  intellect,  while  it  excited  pity,  evinced  also 
the  necessity  of  restraint ;  that  the  veil  was  now  lifted, 
and  she  knew  herself  never  to  have  been  anything 
but  the  hapless  victim  of  his  egotism  and  his  divers 
caprices ;  and  that,  therefore,  with  infinite  pain,  she 
laid  at  his  feet  all  the  boons  she  had  received  from 
him,  and  bade  him  adieu  .  .  .  adieu  for  ever." 

And  so  ended  the  last  romance  of  Mile.  Clairon, 
and  the  only  souvenir  of  her  seventeen  years'  residence 
at  Anspach  is  a  kind  of  fancy  bread,  which  is  called 
"  Clairons  Week  "  unto  this  day.1 

As  for  the  faithless  Margrave,  he  was  too  happy  in 
the  society  of  Lady  Craven,  who  shortly  afterwards  took 
up  her  residence  at  Anspach,  to  care  much  what  became 
of  her  predecessor  in  his  affections  ;  and  so  infatuated  did 
he  become  with  that  lady  that,  on  his  wife's  death  in 
1 79 1,  he  married  her.  In  the  following  year,  the  prince 
— in  the  face  of  an  eloquent  letter  of  remonstrance  from 
Mile.  Clairon — sold  his  margravates  of  Anspach  and 
Baireuth  to  the  King  of  Prussia,  and  migrated,  with 
his  wife,  to  England,  where  he  died  in  1806.  The 
Margravine  survived  her  husband  more  than  twenty 
years,  and  died,  at  Naples,  in  1828. 

In  1785,  during  one  of  the  visits  to  Paris  which  she 
had  paid  in  company  with  the  Margrave,  Mile.  Clairon 
had  purchased  a  country-house  at  Issy,  and  it  was  here 
that  she  now  took  up  her  residence.  She  lived  a  very 
quiet  life,  receiving  and  visiting  a  few  old  friends,  and 
occupying  the  rest  of  her  time  with  collecting  objects 
of  natural  history,  which  had  always  been  one  of  her 
favourite  occupations,  and  the  writing  of  her  Memoires. 

1   Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  C/airon,  p.  385. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  347 

Madame  Vigee  Lebrun,  the  painter,  who  met  Mile. 
Clairon  soon  after  her  return  to  France,  at  the  house 
of  her  former  pupil,  Larive,  has  left  us  the  follow- 
ing impression  of  the  famous  tragedienne  in  her  old 
age  :— 

"  I  had  pictured  to  myself  that  she  was  very  tall ; 
and,  on  the  contrary,  she  was  very  short  and  very  thin  ; 
she  held  her  head  very  erect,  which  gave  her  an  air 
of  dignity.  I  never  heard  any  one  speak  with  so 
much  emphasis,  for  she  retained  her  tragic  tone  and  airs 
of  a  princess ;  but  she  gave  me  the  impression  of  being 
clever  and  well  informed.  I  sat  beside  her  at  table,  and 
enjoyed  much  of  her  conversation.  Larive  showed  her 
the  greatest  respect  and  attention."  * 

Early  in  the  year  1792,  Mile.  Clairon  completed 
her  Memoires,  which  she  entrusted  to  Henri  Meister, 
the  friend  of  Diderot  and  the  Neckers,  who  was  leaving 
Paris  for  Germany,  on  the  condition,  so  she  subsequently 
asserted,  that  they  should  not  be  given  to  the  world 
until  ten  years  after  her  death.  One  day,  however,  in 
1798,  she  learned,  to  her  astonishment,  through  an  article 
in  a  Paris  journal,  that  they  had  been  published  in 
Germany,  whereupon  she  hurriedly  brought  out  a  French 
edition,  bearing  the  title  :  Memoires  d'Hippolyte  Clairon 
et  Reflexions  sur  la  declamation  theatrale. 

These  Memoires,  written  in  an  absurdly  solemn  and 
grandiloquent  style,  even  for  the  time,  and  "  inter- 
spersed," says  the  admiring  editor  of  the  English  edition, 
"  with  precepts  of  practical  morality  which  would  do 
honour  to  our  greatest  philosophers,"  reveal  to  us  a  very 
different  Clairon  from  the  Clairon  of  the  police-reports 
and  of  the  memoirs  and  correspondence  of  her  con- 

1  Souvenirs  de  Madame  Vigee  Lebrun,  i.  83. 


348      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

temporaries  ;  but,  unfortunately,  there  can  be  very  little 
doubt  which  portrait  comes  nearer  the  truth.  Partly, 
no  doubt,  for  this  reason,  they  had  only  a  moderate 
success ;  and  though  several  copies  bear  the  words 
"  Seconde  edition"  they  were,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  not 
reprinted  until  1822,  when  they  appeared  in  the  well- 
known  Collection  des  Mdmoires  sur  ran  dramatique.  The 
most  interesting  part  of  the  book,  in  our  opinion,  are 
the  chapters  which  the  actress  devotes  to  reflections  upon 
her  art,  some  of  which  may  still  be  read  with  profit  by 
candidates  for  histrionic  fame.  But  what  aroused  most 
attention  at  the  time  the  work  was  published  was  the 
celebrated  history  of  the  lady's  ghost — the  spectre  of  a 
young  Breton  whom  she  had  pitilessly  left  to  die  of  love, 
and  who  had  vowed  on  his  death-bed  to  haunt  her  for 
the  remainder  of  her  life. 

Never  was  there  so  persistent  and  vindictive  an 
apparition — though  the  term  apparition  is  perhaps  a 
misnomer,  as  the  shade  of  the  departed  never  actually 
showed  itself.  It  was  perpetually  visiting  her  at  the 
most  unexpected  times  and  in  the  most  unexpected 
places — at  her  petits  soupers,  while  she  was  riding  in  her 
coach  to  shop  in  the  Rue  Saint-Honore,  and  so  forth. 
Sometimes  its  presence  was  announced  by  "a  long- 
continued  and  piteous  cry,"  which  so  terrified  an  elderly 
admirer  who  happened  to  be  present  on  one  occasion, 
that  he  "  had  to  be  conducted  to  his  carriage  more  dead 
than  alive  "  ;  *  sometimes  by  a  loud  report  like  that  of 

1  Its  effect  was  less  terrifying  upon  "  an  amorous  and  jealous  inten- 
dant"  who  mistook  the  ghostly  visitant's  cry  for  that  of  a  lover  in  the 
flesh,  and  had  the  bad  taste  to  remark  to  Mile.  Clairon  that  "the  signals 
of  her  rendezvous  were  somewhat  too  noisy."  And  this  after  the  poor 
lady  had  just  recovered  from  a  swoon  lasting  nearly  a  quarter  of  an 
hour! 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  349 

a  musket ;  at  others  by  "  a  noise  like  the  clapping  of 
hands  "  ;  and  finally,  by  "  a  celestial  voice  singing  the 
most  tender  and  pathetic  airs."  *  No  solution  of  these 
singular  phenomena  was  ever  forthcoming,  though  the 
assistance  of  the  police  was  invoked  in  order  to  probe 
the  mystery.  But  the  most  probable  explanation 
is  a  little  plot  on  the  part  of  some  friends  of 
the  young  Breton  to  read  the  lady  a  much-needed 
lesson. 

On  her  retirement  from  the  stage,  Mile.  Clairon  had 
been  in  possession  of  a  comfortable  fortune,  producing 
an  income  of  some  18,000  livres;  and  though  this  had 
been  considerably  reduced  by  the  financial  jugglery  of 
the  Abbe  Terrai,  the  loss  had  been  subsequently  repaired 
by  the  sale  of  her  jewellery,  art  treasures,  and  natural 
history  collection,  which  had  realised  90,000  livres. 
In  her  old  age,  however,  she  fell  into  great  poverty, 
though  to  attribute  her  financial  losses  to  the  Revolution 
— which  swept  away  so  many  fortunes — as  have  several 
writers,  would  appear  to  be  without  justification,  as  on 
Fructidor  26,  Year  III.,  at  a  time  when  money  was  ex- 
ceedingly scarce,  we  find  her  writing  to  a  M.  Perignon, 
advocate,  requesting  him  to  find  her  a  secure  investment 
for  a  sum  of  24,000  livres  ;  while  so  late  as  October  9, 
1 80 1,  when  she  made  her  will,  she  would  appear,  to 
judge  by  the  various  bequests  she  makes,  to  have  been 
still  in  easy  circumstances.2 

On  the  other  hand,  there  can  be  no  question  that 
between  that  date  and  her  death,  fifteen  months  later, 
she  was  reduced  to  great  distress,  as  witness  the  following 
appeal  addressed  to  Chaptal,  the  Minister  of  the  Interior, 

1  Memoires  de  Mademoiselle  Clairon  (edit.  1799),  p.  I  et  scq. 

2  Edmond  de  Goncourt,  Mademoiselle  Clairon,  p.  466. 


350      QUEENS   OF  THE   FRENCH   STAGE 

and  in  response  to  which  she  received  an  order  on  the 
Treasury  for  2000  livres  : — 

"  CITIZEN  MINISTER, — For  a  month  past  I  have  been 
vainly  seeking  a  protector  to  bring  me  to  your  notice  ; 
but  if  it  be  true  that  you  are  of  a  generous  disposition, 
it  is  to  you  alone  that  I  should  address  myself.  Seventy- 
nine  years  of  age,  almost  in  want  of  the  necessaries  of 
life,  celebrated  at  one  time  by  the  possession  of  some 
talents,  I  wait  at  your  door  until  you  condescend  to 
grant  me  a  moment.  CLAIRON." 

In  good  truth,  an  object-lesson  for  the  moralist  to 
dilate  upon  !  Clairon,  the  haughty,  the  incomparable 
Clairon,  the  idol  of  town  and  theatre  ;  Clairon,  to  have 
met  whom  in  society  was  the  proudest  boast  of  the 
braggart  in  Candide ;  Clairon,  for  whose  smiles  a  King 
(according  to  Grimm)  had  sighed  in  vain,  and  a  Serene 
Highness — not  in  vain  ;  Clairon,  whose  classic  features 
had  been  painted  by  Van  Loo  and  sculptured  by 
Lemoine ;  Clairon,  in  whose  honour  gold  medals  had 
been  struck,  and  whose  praises  "  bards  sublime "  had 
chanted — forced  to  beg  her  bread  at  the  door  of  a 
Minister ! 

At  the  time  when  the  above  letter  was  written,  the 
old  actress  had  removed  from  Issy,  and  was  living  in  the 
Rue  de  Lille  with  a  Madame  de  la  Rianderie,2  the  widow 
of  an  officer  in  the  Gardes-Francaises.  Here  she  was 
visited  by  Lemontey,  who  describes  her  as  a  little, 

1  Gueullette,  Acteurs  et  Actr'tces  du  Temps  passe,  p.  320. 

2  Marie  Pauline  Menard.     Mile.  Clairon  had  adopted  her  when  a 
little  girl  and  provided  her  dot,  which  led  to  a  widespread  belief  that  she 
was  her  natural  daughter.     This,  however,  was  not  the  case. 


MADEMOISELLE   CLAIRON  351 

withered  old  woman,  feeble  and  sickly,  but  still  retain- 
ing something  of  her  majestic  manner,  and  who  spoke  to 
him  in  a  voice  which  had  lost  but  little  of  its  power  and 
sweetness.  Observing  a  little  boy  who  had  accompanied 
the  historian,  she  motioned  him  to  approach,  saying : 
"  Make  that  child  come  here.  He  will  be  very  pleased 
to  be  able  to  say  one  day  that  he  has  seen  and  spoken 
to  Mile.  Clairon." 

Another  of  her  visitors  was  the  English  actor  John 
Kemble,  to  whom  she  recited  a  scene  from  Phedre  with 
a  majesty  and  fire  truly  astonishing  in  one  so  old 
and  frail. 

Mile.  Clairon  died  on  January  31,  1803,  six  days 
after  completing  her  eightieth  year. 

Animated  to  the  last  by  the  pride  which  had  domi- 
nated her  whole  life,  Mile.  Clairon  bequeathed  to  the 
nation  her  marble  bust  by  Lemoine  and  the  gold  medal 
which  Valbelle  and  Villepinte  had  caused  to  be  struck 
in  her  honour ;  but,  for  some  reason,  these  souvenirs 
were  not  accepted.  The  native  town  of  the  great  actress 
showed  itself  less  indifferent  than  the  State,  and  placed 
a  commemorative  tablet  on  the  house  in  which  she  had 
been  born.  In  1876,  however,  the  house  collapsed 
beneath  the  weight  of  years,  and  the  tablet  was  buried 
under  its  ruins.1 

The  remains  of  Mile.  Clairon  were  interred  in  the 
cemetery  of  Vaugirard,  where  they  remained  until  its 
suppression  in  April  1837,  when,  escorted  by  a  deputa- 
tion from  the  Com^die-Frangaise,  they  were  transferred 
to  Pere-Lachaise,  and  there  re-interred,  Samson  pro- 

1   Gueullette,  Acteurs  et  Actrices  du  Temps  passe,  p.  321. 


352      QUEENS   OF   THE   FRENCH  STAGE 

nouncing  an  eloge  over  the  grave.  In  1889,  at  the 
solicitation  of  M.  Caille,  an  inhabitant  of  Cond£,  the 
socittaires  of  the  Com£die-Fran9aise  decided  that  the 
tomb  of  the  famous  tragedienne  should  be  completely 
restored,  and  voted  for  that  purpose  a  sum  of  one 
thousand  francs. 


INDEX 


Actrice  nouvelle,  F,  Poisson's,  151 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  Scribe   and 

Legouve*'s,    129  and    note,    182 

note 

Aiguillon,  Due  d',  163 
Aiguillon,  Duchesse,  319,  337 
Alss^,  Mile.,  140, 180, 184  note,  186 ; 

(cited)     180-183,     188-190,     192 

note 

Alexandre,  Racine's,  26,  92 
Allainval,   Abbe"   d',    129 ;    (cited) 

134,  MS,  199 

Amours  de  Bastien  et  Bastienne, 
Justine  Favart's  performance  in, 
268 

Amphitryon,  Moliere's,  49,  155 

Andromaque,  Racine's,  11  note,  93 

Anne  of  Austria,  Queen  of  France, 
27 

Anne  Ivanovna,  Duchess  of  Cour- 
land,  173,  174,  175 

Anspach,  Margrave  of,  his  char- 
acter and  personal  appearance, 
340,  341  ;  falls  in  love  with  Mile. 
Clairon  and  invites  her  to  An- 
spach, 341  ;  "the  sweetest  and 
kindest  of  beings,"  342  ;  discards 
Mile.  Clairon  for  Lady  Craven, 
344-346 

Anspach,  Margravine  of,  340,  341, 

344,  345,  346. 
Antiochus  et  Ctiopatre,  Deschamps', 

154 

Argental,  d',  164-168, 169,  193  note 
Ariane,     Mile,   de    Champmesle's 

performance  in,  99. 
Aries,    Council    of,    excludes    the 

actor  from  the  Sacraments,  66, 

67 

Attila,  Pierre  Corneille's,26,97note 
Aubry,  Sebastian,  13 


Augustus  II.,  Elector  of  Saxony 
and  King  of  Poland,  169,  170, 
174,  176 

Aunillon,  Abbe",  179. 

Avare,  Moliere's,  78 


B 


Bachaumont,  (cited)  293  note,  328, 
335  note,  337  note 

Bajazet,  98,  337. 

Balicourt,  Mile.,  228  and  note 

Barbier,  (cited)  161,  213,  301 

Barbier  d'Aucour,  102 

Bauffremont,  Marquis  de,  318 

Baron,  Michel,  56-58,  63,  75,  94, 
147,  151,  152,  159 

Bayle,  8,  41 

Bazin,  9,  44 

Beaumarchais,  325 

Beaumenard,  Mile.,  mistress  of 
Maurice  de  Saxe,  239,  243  note 

Beffara,  9,  15,  211  note 

Bejart,  Armande,  her  marriage 
with  Moliere,  3 ;  controversy 
concerning  her  parentage,  7-20  ; 
accompanies  the  I  llustre  Theatre 
to  the  provinces,  20  ;  her  educa- 
tion, 21  ;  her  personal  appear- 
ance, 22-25 ',  ner  gifts  as  an 
actress,  25,  26  ;  her  debut,  27  ; 
plays  before  the  Court  in  the 
Imprompu  de  Versailles,  27  ;  and 
during  Les  Plaisirs  de  file  en- 
chantee,  27-29 ;  bears  Moliere  a 
son,  27 ;  her  rendering  of  the 
part  of  Celimene  in  the  Misan- 
thrope, 29-3 1 ;  other  performances 
by  her,  31,  32;  her  moral  con- 
duct considered,  32-40;  charges 
brought  against  her  in  La 
Fameuse  Comedienne,  40  -  48  ; 


353 


354 


INDEX 


temporarily  separated  from  her 
husband,  48-54;  her  supposed 
liaison  with  Baron,  56-58  ;  her 
platonic  friendship  with  Pierre 
Corneille,  58,  59  ;  birth  of  her 
second  son,  60;  endeavours  to 
dissuade  Moliere  from  playing 
in  the  Malade  imaginaire,  62  ; 
goes  to  find  a  priest  to  admin- 
ister the  last  Sacraments  to  her 
husband,  63 ;  her  appeal  to  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  63,  64  ;  her 
interview  with  Louis  XIV.  at 
Saint-Germain,  64 ;  throws  money 
among  the  crowd  on  the  day  of 
Moliere' s  funeral,  71  ;  causes  a 
fire  to  be  lighted  on  his  grave, 
72  ;  conclusion  as  to  her  moral 
conduct,  72,  73 ;  resumes  her 
place  in  the  company  three  days 
after  her  husband's  death,  74  and 
note  ;  secures  the  Theatre  Gudne"- 
gaud,  77,  78 ;  her  adventure  with 
President  Lescot,  79-82  ;  libelled 
by  Guichard,  82  and  note ; 
marries  Gue"rin  d'Estriche',  83, 
84  ;  her  later  years,  84,  85 

Be'jart,  Be'nigne  Madeleine,  10,  19 

Be'jart,  Genevieve,  7,  15 

Bejart,  Joseph /m?,  3,  7,  9,  10 

Be'jart,  Joseph  fils,  4,  10,  15,  75 

Be'jart,  Louis,  15 

Bejart,  Madeleine,  her  parentage, 
34  ;  becomes  an  actress,  4,  5  ; 
has  a  daughter  by  the  Comte  de 
Modene,  5,  6 ;  commonly  be- 
lieved to  be  the  mother  of 
Armande  Be'jart,  7-10 ;  and  to 
have  been  the  mistress  of  Moliere, 
1 1  ;  hideous  accusation  of  Mont- 
fleury,  11,  12;  repeated  by  Guich- 
ard, Le  Boulanger  de  Chalussay, 
and  in  La  Fameuse  Comedienne, 
12-15  ;  joins  the  Illustre  Theatre, 
1 5  ;  her  talent  as  an  actress  and 
personal  appearance,  16 ;  ques- 
tion as  to  her  relations  with 
Moliere  considered,  17-20 ;  pro- 
motes the  marriage  between 
Moliere  and  Armande,  21,  22 

Bellerose,  76  note 

Benoit  (surgeon),  his  dispute  with 
Dubois  of  the  Come'die-Fran- 
caise,  328,  329 


Bfrtnice,  Racine's,  96,  97,  98 

Berghieck,  Comte  de,  lover  of  Mile. 
Clairon,  281 

Bernard,  Samuel,  216 

Bernhardt,  Madame  Sarah,  138 

Berri,  Duchesse  de,  205 

Berryer,  Lieutenant  of  Police,  285, 
304,  3°5>  3o6>  318 

Besenval,  Baron  de,  Mile.  Clairon's 
love-letters  to  him,  303 

Bimorel,  Madame  de,  282,  283, 
285 

Blainville,  expelled  from  the  Come'- 
die-Frangaise,  329 

Blondi,  dancing-master,  206 

Blot,  42 

Boileau-Despre'aux,  60,  71,  100 
103,  108,  109,  116 ;  (cited)  102 

Boileau-Puimorin,  60 

Bossuet,  denounces  the  plays  of 
Moliere,  70 ;  his  Maximes  et 
reflexions  sur  la  com^die,  119, 
120 

Botte  de  la  Barondiere,  P6re,  in- 
sists on  Bre'court  renouncing  the 
stage,  117  and  note 

Bouillon  (Louise  Franchise  de  Lor- 
raine), Duchesse  de,  enamoured 
of  Maurice  de  Saxe,  179;  her 
personal  appearance,  179  note  ; 
accused  by  the  Abbe*  Bouret  of 
having  engaged  him  to  poison 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  179-188  ; 
suspected  of  having  caused  the 
death  of  the  actress,  188-190; 
consideration  of  this  charge,  190, 
191  ;  discarded  by  the  Comte  de 
Clermont  for  Mile,  de  Camargo, 
213 

Bouillon  (Marie -Anne  Mancini), 
Duchesse  de,  intrigues  to  ruin 
Racine's  Phedre,  103-105 

Bourdaloue,  Pere,  preaches  against 
Tartuffe,  70;  denounces  the 
theatre,  120 

Bouret,  Abbe",  accuses  the  Duchesse 
de  Bouillon  of  having  engaged 
him  to  poison  Adrienne  Lecouv- 
reur, 179-184;  sent  to  Saint- 
Lazare,  184  ;  released,  184  ;  re- 
arrested,  185  ;  persists  in  his 
accusation,  186;  but  finally  re- 
cants, 187  ;  set  at  liberty  and 
disappears,  187 


INDEX 


355 


Bourgeois  gentilhommet  Moliere's, 
23,  24,  97  note 

Bouteville,  Due  de,  302 

Bouty,  Marie  (mother  of  Mile, 
de  Champmesle),  130 

Boyer,  Abbe,  92,  114,  115,  153 

Brecourt,  compelled  by  the  cure  of 
Saint-Sulpice  to  renounce  his 
profession,  1 17  and  note 

Breuze  de  la  Martiniere,  8 

Brie,  Mile,  de,  joins  the  Illustre 
Theatre,  17;  becomes  Moliere's 
mistress,  17 ;  resides  in  the 
Bejart's  house,  48  ;  resumes  her 
intimacy  with  Moliere,  55,  56  ; 
jealousy  between  her  and  Mile. 
Moliere,  73 

Brizard,  330 

Brossette,  (cited)  17,  100 

Brotok,  Comte  de,  ruined  by  Mile. 
Clairon,  303 

By,  Chevalier  de,  lover  of  Mile. 
Clairon,  286 


Caffaro,  Pere,  his  Lettre  (fun 
Th^ologien,  in  defence  of  the 
theatrical  profession,  119,  120 

Cahusac,  (cited)  203 

Calandrini,  Madame,  180 

Camargo,  Marie  Anne  de :  see 
Cupis  de  Camargo 

Cartouche  (brigand),  135 

Cartouche,  ou  les  voleurs,  Le 
Grand's,  135 

Casanova,  (cited)  220 

Castelnau,  Marquis  de,  265 

Castil-Blaze,  (cited)  200,  208 

Champmesle',  Charles  de  :  see  Chev- 
illet  de  Champmesle' 

Champmesle,  Marie  de  :  see  Cbev- 
illet  de  Champmesld 

Chantilly,  Mile.:  see  Favart,  Jus- 
tine 

Chapelle,  42,  49-52,  53,  54,  71,  9» 

Chappuzeau,  Samuel,  (cited)  76 
note,  77 

Chardon,  M.  Henri,  (cited)  4,  18, 

19 
Chateauroux,    Duchesse    de,    215, 

289 
Chevillet  de  Champmesle',  Charles, 


runs  away  from  home  to  become 
an  actor,  90,  91 ;  marries  Marie 
Desmares,  91  ;  joins  the  Theatre 
du  Marais,  91  ;  leaves  it  for  the 
Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  93  ;  a  com- 
placent husband,  93  ;  on  the  best 
of  terms  with  his  wife's  admirers, 
1 08 ;  joins  the  Theatre  Gue'ne'- 
gaud,  113;  his  Parisien,  113; 
singular  incident  connected  with 
his  death,  125,  126 
Chevillet  de  Champmesle',  Marie, 
birth  and  parentage,  89 ;  becomes 
an  actress  and  makes  her  debut  at 
Rouen,  90;  marries  Charles  de 
Champmesle',  91  ;  comes  to  Paris 
with  her  husband,  91 ;  joins  the 
Theatre  du  Marais,  91  ;  her  first 
successes,  92  ;  leaves  the  Marais 
for  the  Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  93  ; 
her  triumph  as  Hermione  in 
Andromaque,  93  ;  her  gifts  as  an 
actress,  94,  95 ;  her  personal 
appearance,  95,  96  ;  becomes  the 
mistress  of  Racine,  96 ;  her 
successes  in  Berenice,  97 ;  in 
Sajazef,  98 ;  in  Ariane,  99  ;  in 
Mithridate,  99  ;  in  Iphige"nie  en 
Aulide,  100-102 ;  in  Phedre, 
106 ;  her  house  "  the  rendezvous 
of  all  persons  of  distinction  in 
both  Court  and  town,1'  107  ;  un- 
faithful to  Racine,  107,  108  ;  her 
relations  with  Charles  de  SeVigne", 
1 08- 1 10 ;  liaison  with  the  Comte 
de  Clermont-Tonnerre,  1 1 1  ;  dis- 
carded by  Racine,  in  ;  her 
impersonation  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth in  the  Comte  d*  Essex,  113  ; 
joins  the  Theatre  Gue'ne'gaud, 
113;  one  of  the  original  socie'taires 
of  the  Come'die-Frangaise,  113  ; 
secures  her  brother  Nicolas's 
admission  sans  dtbut,  114  ;  later 
performances  by  her,  114-116; 
falls  ill  and  retires  from  stage, 
1 16  ;  with  difficulty  induced  to  re- 
nounce her  profession,  122  ;  dies, 
122 ;  two  letters  of  Racine  on 
her  death,  122,  123  ;  her  pupils, 
Miles.  Duclos  and  Charlotte 
Desmares,  123-125 

Chevreuse,  Duchesse  de,  246,  247 

Choiseul,  Due  de,  327 


356 


INDEX 


Christian  VII.,  King  of  Denmark, 
337 

Cindre',  Marquis  de,  lover  of  Mile. 
Clairon,  306 

Circe1,  Thomas  Corneille's,  78 

Clairon,  Mile.,  her  parentage,  276  ; 
her  birth,  276,  277  ;  comes  with 
her  mother  to  Paris,  277  ;  her 
account  of  how  she  was  led  to 
become  an  actress,  278-281  ; 
makes  her  dtbut  at  the  Comedie- 
Italienne,  281  ;  accepts  an  en- 
gagement at  Rouen,  281  ;  her 
life  there,  282, 283;  adventure  with 
Gaillard  de  la  Bataille,  283,  284  ; 
Histoire  de  Mademoiselle  Cronel, 
dite  Fre'lillon,  284,  285 ;  her 
mother  tries  to  coerce  her  into 
marriage,  285  ;  "  three  rival  war- 
riors contending  for  her  heart," 
286 ;  rejects  the  proposals  of"  my 
lord"  Marlborough,  287 ;  returns 
to  Paris  and  joins  the  Opera,  287  ; 
leaves  the  Opera  for  the  Comedie- 
Frangaise,  288 ;  her  admission 
opposed  by  certain  members  of 
the  troupe,  289 ;  insists  on  making 
her  debut  in  the  part  of  Phedre, 

289,  290 ;  her  brilliant  success, 

290,  291  ;   her  personal  appear- 
ance, 291 ;  her  remarkable  gifts 
as  an  actress,  293 ;  testimony  of 
Favart,  294  ;  of  Colld,  294,  295  ; 
of  Herault  de  Se*chelles,  295  ;  of 
Oliver  Goldsmith,  295,  296 ;  of 
Sturtz,  296-299 ;  of  Garrick,  299, 
300 ;  performances  by  her,  300, 
301 ;    her    brilliant    success    as 
Ame'naide  in  Tancrede,  301  ;  her 
lovers,  301-307  ;  her  liaison  with 
Marmontel,  307-309;  changes  her 
style  of  acting,  309-313;  brings 
about  a  reform  in  stage  costume, 
313-314;  an  indefatigable  student 
of  everything  connected  with  her 
art,    314-316;    continuing    her 
career  of  gallantry,  317-318 ;  con- 
ceives a  genuine  passion  for  the 
Comte    de  Valbelle,   318,   319; 
her  social  success,  319  and  note; 
her  portrait  painted  by  Carle  van 
Loo,  319  and  note,  320;  declines 
an  offer  to  take  up  her  residence 
at  Gt.  Petersburg,  320, 32 1 ;  Gar- 


rick  commissions  an  engraving 
of  her  "in  all  the  attributes  of 
Tragedy,"  321  ;  gold  medal 
struck  in  her  honour,  322  ;  her 
pride  and  arrogance,  322,  323  ; 
has  the  interests  of  her  profession 
sincerely  at  heart,  323,  324 ;  en- 
deavours to  relieve  the  stage  from 
the  ban  of  the  Church,  324 ; 
attacked  by  Frdron,  in  the  Anne'e 
litttraire,  324-328  ;  f  affaire 
Dubois,  328-331  ;  sent  to  For 
Pliveque,  331,  332  ;  her  letter  to 
Garrick,  332,  333  ;  visits  Voltaire 
at  Ferney,  334,  335  ;  enthusias- 
tically acclaimed  by  the  pit  at 
Marseilles,  335  ;  retires  from  the 
Comedie-Frangaise,  335,  336 ; 
her  life  after  her  retirement,  336, 
337  ;  plays  before  the  King  of 
Denmark,  337,  338  ;  and  at  Ver- 
sailles, 338 ;  her  correspondence 
with  her  pupil  Larive,  339,  340  ; 
accompanies  the  Margrave  of 
Anspach  to  Germany,  341  ;  her 
life  at  Anspach,  341-344 ;  sup- 
planted by  Lady  Craven  in  the 
affections  of  the  Margrave,  344- 
346  ;  takes  up  her  residence  at 
Issy,  346,  347  ;  publication  of  her 
MemoireS)  347  ;  her  last  years 
and  death,  349-351  ;  removal  of 
her  remains  from  Vaugirard  to 
Pere  Lachaise  in  1837,  351,  352 

Clavel,  Adrienne  Lecouvreur's 
letters  to  him,  142-145 

Clement  XL,  Pope,  declines  to 
interfere  between  the  Church 
and  the  theatrical  profession, 
121  note 

Clermont,  Comte  de,  his  character, 
212  ;  becomes  the  lover  of  Mile. 
de  Camargo,  213 ;  can  refuse 
her  nothing,  214  ;  insists  on  her 
quitting  the  stage,  214 ;  ap- 
pointed abbot  of  Saint-Germain- 
des-Pres,  215;  installs  Mile,  de 
Camargo  at  the  Chateau  de 
Berny,  215  ;  discards  her  for 
Mile.  Le  Due,  216  ;  presents  his 
new  enchantress  with  a  mag- 
nificent equipage,  217,  218; 
makes  Mile,  de  Camargo  an 
allowance,  220 


INDEX 


357 


Clermont-Tonnerre,  Comte  de,  one 
of  the  admirers  of  Mile,  de 
Champmesle,  107,  108,  in 

Cochin,  Charles  Nicolas  fits,  his 
drawing  of  Justine  Favart,228  note 

Colbert,  17  note,  77 

Colle,  (cited)  152,  153,  216  and 
note,  252  note,  294,  295,  301, 
314,  322  note 

Comedie-Frangaise,  its  foundation, 

"3 
Comte  d*  Essex,  Thomas  Corneille  s, 

153.  156 

Conti,  Prince  de,  69 
Coraline,    Mile.,    shocked   at    the 

conduct  of  Justine  Favart,  256 
Corneille,  Pierre,  17,   26,  32  note, 

58,  59»  96,97  and  note,  114,  131, 

132,  266,  294 

Corneille,  Thomas,  78,  92,  112 
Coulanges,    Madame    de,    (cited) 

99 

Couvreur,  Robert,  father  of  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur,  130,  131 

Couvrigny,  Pere  de  (chaplain  to  the 
Bastille),  his  letter  to  the  Lieu- 
tenant of  Police,  1 86 

Coypel,  Charles,  his  portrait  of 
Adrienne  Lecouveur,  142-145 

Crebillon  pere,  124,  145,  227,  294, 
300,  321  and  note 

Crebillon  yf/j,  321  note 

Critique  de  fEcole  des  femmes, 
Moliere's,  27 

Cupis  de  Camargo,  Ferdinand 
Joseph  de  (father  of  Mile,  de 
Camargo),  descended  from  "  one 
of  the  noblest  families  in  Rome," 
199;  gives  his  daughter  lessons 
in  dancing,  200 ;  accompanies 
her  to  Rouen,  201  ;  and  to  Paris, 
202  ;  exercises  unsleeping  vigi- 
lance over  her,  208  ;  his  letter 
to  Cardinal  de  Fleury  after  her 
elopement  with  the  Comte  de 
Melun,  209-211 

Cupis  de  Camargo,  Marie  Anne 
de,  birth  and  parentage,  199, 
200  ;  her  precocious  talent,  200  ; 
sent  to  Paris  to  take  lessons 
from  Mile.  Prevost,  200  ;  premiere 
danseuse  at  Brussels  theatre,  201  ; 
goes  to  Rouen,  201  ;  engaged  at 
the  Paris  Opera,  201,  202  ;  her 


triumphal  debut,  202  and  note ; 
her  personal  appearance,  202, 
203;  "abbreviates  her  skirts," 
203,  204 ;  triumphs  over  the 
intrigues  of  Mile.  Prevost  and 
becomes  queen  of  the  Opera, 
204  -  206  ;  revolutionises  the 
ballet,  206,  207 ;  patronised  by 
the  Duchesse  de  Villars,  207; 
carried  off  by  the  Comte  de 
Melun,  208-211  ;  conceives  "  une 
belle  passion'"  for  the  Marquis 
de  Sourdis,  211,  212;  becomes 
the  mistress  of  the  Comte  de 
Clermont,  212-214;  temporarily 
retires  from  the  Opera,  214; 
does  the  honours  of  the  Chateau 
de  Berny,  215  ;  discarded  by  the 
count  for  Mile.  Le  Due,  216  ; 
becomes  the  mistress  of  the 
President  de  Rieux,  216,  217; 
receives  a  magnificent  present, 
217  ;  breaks  with  the  president 
and  resumes  her  liaison  with  the 
Marquis  de  Sourdis,  218;  re- 
turns to  the  Opera,  219;  rivalry 
between  her  and  Mile.  Salle, 
219 ;  verses  addressed  to  them 
by  Voltaire,  219;  makes  her 
debut  as  a  singer,  220  ;  definitely 
retires  from  the  Opera,  220 ;  her 
later  years  and  death,  220, 
221 

Cupis  de  Camargo,  Sophie  de,  208, 
209-211 

D 

D ,  Baron,  lover  of  Adrienne 

Lecouvreur,  141 
Dancourt,  135 
Dangeville,    Mile.,    inspires    Mile. 

Clairon  with  a  desire  to  become 

an    actress,   278-280 ;    finds    it 

"  impossible  to  live  "  with  Mile. 

Clairon,  323 

Des  Boulmiers,  (cited)  171 
Desheys  introduces   Mile.  Clairon 

to  the  Come"die-Italienne,  281 
Deshoulieres,   Madame,    intrigues 

against  Racine, 
Desmares,  Charlotte,  114,  124,  125, 

126 
Desmares,    Guillaume,    father    of 

Marie  de  Champmesle',  89 


3J8 


INDEX 


Desmares,  Marie :  see  Chevillet 
de  Champmesle',  Marie 

Desmares,  Nicolas,  brother  of 
Marie  de  Champmesle,  89,  114, 
126 

Desmarets  de  Saint-Sorlin,  69 

Desnoiresterres,  Gustave,  (cited) 
229  note,  239,  240  note,  242 

Des  CEillets,  Mile.,  93,  94,  98 

Devineresse,  La,  78 

Diderot,  347 

Don  Garde  de  Navarre,  Moliere's, 
301 

Don  Juan,  Moliere's,  65,  78,  79 

Donneau  de  Vise,  8,  27,  78,  79,  99 

Dubois,  Abbe,  (cited)  106 

Dubois  (actor  of  the  Come"die- 
Francaise),  his  dispute  with  the 
surgeon  Benoit,  328 ;  expelled 
from  the  Com^die,  329 ;  tem- 
porarily reinstated,  329;  Mile. 
Clairon  and  four  of  her  colleagues 
decline  to  act  with  him,  330 ; 
his  partisans  create  a  riot  in  the 
theatre,  330,  331  ;  resigns  his 
place,  334 

Dubois,  Mile.,  329,  330,  331 

Duclos,  Mile.,  123,  124,  125,  126 

Du  Deffand,  Marquise,  319 

Du  Cue",  Madame,  invites  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur  to  perform  at  her 
hotel,  131-133 

Du  Maine,  Duchesse,  158 

Du  Marsais,  Cesar,  his  "£on,  cela  !" 
148  ;  gives  Adrienne  Lecouvreur 
lessons  in  elocution,  149 

Dumas    d'Aigueberre,  (cited)  152, 

153 

Dumesnil,  Marie  Frangoise,  a 
worthy  successor  to  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur,  275 ;  her  triumph 
in  Merope,  276  ;  compared  with 
Mile.  Clairon,  292,  293 ;  pre- 
ferred by  Louis  XV.  to  the 
latter,  338 

Dumolard,  (cited)  242 

Du  Pare,  Mile.,  rejects  the  advances 
of  Moliere,  17  ;  and  of  Pierre 
Corneille,  58  ;  confidante  of  Ar- 
mande  Bejart,  45;  Racine  "ex- 
periences with  her  a  sentiment 
which  has  the  dignity  of  love," 
107 

Duras,  Due  de,  327,  335,  336 


Duronceray,  Justine  :  see  Favart, 

Justine 
Duronceray,  M.  (father  of  Justine 

Favart),  228  ;  a  tool  in  the  hands 

of    Maurice  de   Saxe,  254-256, 

258,  259,  261 
Duronceray,  Madame  (mother  of 

Justine  Favart),  228 
Du  Rouvray,  M.,  283 


Ecole  desfemmes,  Moliere's,  14,  33, 

,34 

Ecole  des  marts,  Moliere's,  33 
Edwards,  Mr.  Sutherland,  43  note 
El  Desden  con  el  Desden,  Moreto's, 
,28 

Electre,  Cre*billon's,  145,  312 
Electre,  Longpierre's,  33 
Electre,  Voltaire's,  322 
Elizabeth     Petrovna,     Czarina    of 

Russia,   wooed   by   Maurice   de 

Saxe,    173-175  ;     invites    Mile. 

Clairon      to      St.      Petersburg, 

320 
Elontire  hypocondre,  Le  Boulanger 

de  Chalussay's,  13,  14 
Elzevirs,  the,  print  an   edition  of 

Elomire  hypocondre,  14 
Epinay,  Madame  d',  315 
Eugene  of  Savoy,  135,  169 


Fameuse  Comedienne,  La,  libel  on 
Armande  Bejart,  15,  21,  22,  25, 
40-54.  56,  72,  73,  82,  84 

Fausse  Prude,  La,  121  note 

Favart,  Charles  Nicolas  Joseph, 
272 

Favart,  Charles  Paul,  225  and 
note 

Favart,  Charles  Simon,  his  early 
life,  225,  226 ;  produces  La 
Chercheuse  rfesprit,  227  ;  director 
of  the  Ope'ra-Comique,  227 ; 
engages  Justine  Duronceray, 
228 ;  marries  her,  229 ;  invited 
by  Maurice  de  Saxe  to  accom- 
pany him  to  Flanders,  231  ;  cele- 
brates the  Marshal's  entry  into 


INDEX 


359 


Brussels,  233  ;  his  adventures  in 
Flanders,  234,  235  ;  announces 
in  verse  Maurice's  intention  to 
give  battle,  237, 238  ;  his  account 
of  the  battle  of  Lawfeld,  244,  245  ; 
learns  of  his  wife's  misconduct 
with  the  Marshal,  245  ;  takes  her 
to  Brussels,  246 ;  his  letter  to 
her,  247  ;  prosecuted  by  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  Brussels  theatre, 
at  the  instigation  of  the  Marshal, 
249 ;  returns  to  Paris  and  per- 
suades Justine  to  leave  Maurice, 
251;  flies  to  Strasburg,  251; 
Justine's  letter  to  him,  253,  254  ; 
refuses  money  offered  him  by  the 
Marshal,  259  ;  reduced  to  terrible 
straits,  265  ;  returns  to  Paris, 
265  ;  his  verses  upon  the  death  of 
Maurice  de  Saxe,  266 ;  regards 
love  as  "  the  greatest  of  all  evils," 
267  ;  tolerates  his  wife's  liaison 
with  the  Abbe  de  Voisenon,  267  ; 
his  later  works,  267-272 ;  his 
admiration  for  Mile.  Clairon's 
acting,  294 

Favart,  Justine,  her  parentage,  228  ; 
engaged  at  the  Opera- Comique, 
228  ;  makes  her  ctebut,  229  ;  her 
marriage  with  Favart,  229  and 
note,  230 ;  her  success  in  Les 
Vendanges  de  Tempt ,  230 ;  ac- 
companies her  husband  to 
Flanders,  232 ;  the  object  of  a 
violent  passion  on  the  part  of 
Maurice  de  Saxe,  239,  240 ; 
"  possessed  by  the  demon  of  con- 
jugal love,"  240 ;  Maurice's  letter 
to  her,  240,  241  ;  yields  to  the 
importunities  of  the  Marshal,  242, 
243  and  note  ;  refuses  to  continue 
the  liaison,  244  ;  confesses  her 
misconduct  to  her  husband,  245, 
246;  flies  to  Brussels,246;  Favart's 
letter  to  her,  247  ;  continues  her 
flight  to  Paris,  248  ;  persuaded 
to  resume  her  intimacy  with  the 
Marshal,  249,  250 ;  again  leaves 
him  and  declares  that "  her  salva- 
tion is  dearer  to  her  than  all  the 
fortunes  in  the  world,"  250;  her 
successful  debut  at  the  Comedie- 
Italienne,  252 ;  her  letter  to  her 
husband  in  hiding  at  Strasburg, 


253;  her  father  a  tool  in  the 
hands  of  Maurice  de  Saxe,  254- 
255 ;  lettre  de  cachet  issued 
against  her,  255  ;  leaves  Paris  to 
join  her  husband,  256;  arrested, 
at  the  instigation  of  Maurice, 
and  taken  to  Les  Grands-An- 
delys,  257 ;  her  correspondence 
with  her  husband  and  Maurice 
de  Saxe,  257-259  ;  removed  to  a 
convent  at  Angers,  259;  further 
correspondence  with  the  Marshal, 
259-262 ;  exhorted  by  Mile. 
Fleury  to  "  become  reasonable," 
263  ;  and  by  her  sister-in-law, 
Marguerite  Favart,  to  remain 
inflexible,  264,  265  ;  terrified  into 
submission  to  the  Marshal,  and 
is  released,  265  ;  returns  to  Paris, 
265  ;  her  relations  with  the  Abb£ 
de  Voisenon,  267  ;  reappears  at 
the  Comedie-Italienne,  267  ;  her 
extraordinary  versatility,  268 ; 
strenuous  for  a  reform  in  stage 
costume,  268  ;  performances  by 
her,  268-270 ;  retires  from  the 
stage,  270 ;  her  last  illness  and 
death,  271 

Femtnes  savantes,  Moliere's,  32 

Fenelon,  denounces  the  theatre,  120 

Ferriol,  Madame  de,  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur's  letter  to,  165-167, 
169 

Fete  de  V^nus,  Marie  de  Champ- 
mesle's  appearance  in,  92 

Fils  ingrats,  Piron's,  155 

Flechier,  denounces  the  theatre,  120 

Flemming,  Count,  intrigues  against 
Maurice  de  Saxe,  170,  176 

Florentin,  Le,  Adrienne  Le- 
couvreur's performances  in,  155, 
189 

Floridor,  1 1 ;  refused  ecclesiastical 
burial,  70 

Florimont,  55 

Folleville,  President  de,  his  affray 
with  the  Marquis  de  Cony, 
282 

Fonpre,  Mile.,  engages  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur  to  play  at  Lille,  136 

Fontaine,  his  portrait  of  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur,  137-139 

Forcalquier,  Madame  de,  319 

Fouche,  Paul,  (cited)  89 


36° 


INDEX 


Fournier,  Edouard,  9 

Freron,    his    attack    upon     Mile. 

Clairon,  324-328 
Fronsac,    Due  de,   lover  of  Mile. 

Dubois,  329  ;  interferes  on  behalf 

of  her  father,  329 


Gaboriau,  Emile,  (cited)  37, 43  note, 
203,  206,  215 

Gaillard  de  la  Bataille,  his  adven- 
ture with  Mile.  Clairon,  283,  284; 
his  libel  upon  her,  284,  285 

Galitzin,  Princess,  319,  320 

Garrick,  Sturtz's  letter  to  him,  296- 
299;  his  opinion  of  Mile.  Clairon's 
acting,  299 ;  commissions  Grave- 
lot  to  engrave  a  design  in  honour 
of  Mile.  Clairon,  321 ;  her  letter 
to  him,  333 ;  offers  her  a  loan, 
334  note 

Gaultier-Garguille,  4  and  note 

Gaussin,  Jeanne,  275,  292,  306  note 

Gautier,  Mile.,  281,  285 

Geoffrey  (chemist),  his  report  on 
the  suspicious  lozenges  given  to 
the  Abbe"  Bouret,  1 84  note 

George  Dandin,  Moliere's,  33,  35- 

37,  145 

Gesvres,  Due  de,  158,  289 
Gesvres,  Duchesse  de,  158 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  (cited)  295,  296 
Goncourt,  Edmond  de,  298  note,  31 8 
Gozlan,  M.  Le"on,  (cited)  236,  240 
Grandval,  180  note,  195,  280 
Grimarest,  (cited)  21,  43  note,  36, 

53,  62  note 

Grimm,  (cited)  203,  204,  247,  315 
Gros-Guillaume,  4  and  note 
Guenegaud,  Theatre,  76  and  note, 

77,  78,  79 

Gue*rin  d'Estnche,  marries  the 
widow  of  Moliere,  83-85 

Gueullette,  M.,  (cited)  1 1 1 

Guichard,  attempts  to  poison  Lulli, 
12,  13;  repeats  the  accusation  of 
Montfleury  against  Moliere,  13; 
accuses  Mile.  Moliere  of  immor- 
ality, 82  and  note 

Guiche,  Comte  de,  his  supposed 
relations  with  Mile.  Moliere,  45 
and  note,  46,  47,  51,  57 

Guise,  Due  de,  100 


H 

Hardouin  de  Pere"fixe,  Archbishop 

of  Paris,  issues  an  order  against 

Tartuffe,  70 
Harlay  de  Chanvalon,  Archbishop 

of  Paris,  his  conduct  in  regard  to 

the  funeral  of  Moliere,  63,  64,  65, 

68 

Hawkins,  Mr.  Frederick,  (cited)  292 
Henley,  Mr.  W.  E.,  (cited)  37 
Henrietta  of  England,   Duchesse 

d'Orleans,  12,  27,  96,  97 
Herault  (Lieutenant  of  Police),  his 

conduct  in  F  affaire  Bouret,  181, 

182,  184  note,  187 
Hermite,  Jean  Baptiste  de  1',  19 
Hermite,  Tristan  de  1',  19 
Henre",     Marie    (mother    of     the 

Bejarts),  i,  7-10,  20 
Histoire  de  Mademoiselle   Cronel, 

dite   Frttillon,    libel    on    Mile. 

Clairon,  284,  285 
Holstein,   Princess  of,    240    note, 

242 

Hotel  de  Bourgogne,  its  amalgama- 
tion  with   the   Theatre    Gue"ne- 

gaud,  84 
Hugues  de  Giversac,  d',  admirer  of 

Mile.  Clairon,  304 

I 

Impromptu  de  Fhotel  de  Conttt,  f, 

ii 
Impromptu  de  Versailles,  Moliere's, 

11,27,  33,  34,35 
Innocent  XII.,  Pope,  121  note 
Iphigtnie  en  Aulide,  Racine's,  100- 

102,  116 

J 

Jal,  Auguste,  (cited)  8  note 
Journal  de  Police,  (cited)  217,  218 
Judith,  Beyer's,  114-116 

K 

Kemble,  John,  351 
Klinglin,  Comte  Francois  de,  his 

liaison  with   Adrienne   Lecouv- 

reur,  144,  1 45 
Konigsmack,  Aurora  von  (mother 

of  Maurice  de  Saxe),  169,  170, 

174 


INDEX 


La  Chalotais,  Marquis  de,  158,  163, 
164,  1 68 

La  Fare,  Marquis  de,  107 

La  Fayette,  Madame  de,  103 

La  Fontaine,  16,  17  and  note,  96, 
107  ;  (cited)  95,  106 

La  Grange,  Charles  :  see  Varlet  de 
la  Grange 

La  Grange-Chancel,  116 

La  Guerault,  Antoine,  89 

La  Harpe,  324,  325 

La  Janiere,  his  reports  to  the 
Lieutenant  of  Police  on  Mile. 
Clairon,  285,  286,  287,  301,  303 

Lambert,  Marquise  de,  158,  160 

La  Morliere,  313  note 

La  Motte,  Mile.,  251,  252 

Lancret,  his  portraits  of  Mile,  de 
Camargo,  221 

Lang,  Mr.  Andrew,  (cited)  10 

Languet  de  Gergy  (cure  of  Saint- 
Sulpice),  his  conduct  in  regard 
to  the  burial  of  Adrienne  Lecouv- 
reur,  192,  194 

La  Noue,  281,  285,  286,  289 

La  Paute,  101  note 

La  Popeliniere,  287,  302 

Laporte,  Abb£  de,  (cited)  93,  94 

Larive,  339,  340,  342,  343,  347 

Laroque,  93 

Larroumet,  M.  Gustave,  129 ;  (cited) 
4,  15,  1 8,  19,  22,  29,  43,  44,  48, 
49,  54,  62  note,  81,  in,  122,  123, 
136,  138,  143,  157,  190 

La  Thorilliere,  97 

Lauraguais,  Due  de,  289 

Lauzun,  Comte  (afterwards  Due) 
de,  his  supposed  liaison  with 
Mile.  Moliere,  45-47 

Lawfeld,  Battle  of,  244,  245 

Le  Boulanger  de  Chalussay,  his 
Elomire  hypocondre,  13,  14 

Le  Brun,  Pere,  denounces  the 
theatre,  120  note 

Lecouvreur,  Adrienne,  her  attrac- 
tion for  French  writers,  129  ;  her 
birth  and  parentage,  130  ;  comes 
to  Paris,  130 ;  takes  part  in  a 
performance,  by  children,  at  the 
hotel  of  Madame  du  Gue,  131- 
133 ;  and  at  the  Temple,  133, 
134;  receives  lessons  from  the 


actor  Le  Grand,  135,  136 ;  ac- 
cepts an  engagement  at  Lille, 
136;  her  career  as  a  provincial 
actress,  136,  137 ;  her  portrait 
by  Charles  Coypel  and  Fontaine, 
137-139  ;  her  beauty  attested  by 
her  contemporaries,  139,  140 ; 
possesses  a  very  susceptible 
nature,  140,  141  ;  her  early  love 
affairs,  141,  142  ;  her  letters  to 
the  actor  Clavel,  142-144  ;  her 
liaison  with  the  Comte  de  Klin- 
glin,  144,  145;  her  children, 
145  ;  her  brilliant  debut  at  the 
Comedie-Frangaise,  145  ;  her 
natural  style  of  elocution  the 
principal  cause  of  her  success, 
146-148  ;  her  debt  to  Cesar  du 
Marsais,  148,  149  ;  bitterly  op- 
posed by  the  champions  of  the 
old  school  of  declamation,  149- 
151  ;  her  triumph  assured  by  the 
support  of  Baron,  151,  152  ;  her 
wonderful  by-play,  152  ;  contem- 
porary criticisms  of  her  acting, 
I52>  r53>  her  faults  as  an 
actress,  153  ;  her  principal  roles 
in  tragedy,  152,  153  ;  quarrel 
between  Voltaire  and  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Rohan  in  her  dressing- 
room,  154,  155  ;  does  not  excel 
in  comedy,  155  ;  her  costumes, 
I55~I575  her  unique  social 
position,  157-159  ;  complains  of 
the  burden  of  her  social  duties, 
159,  160  ;  her  favourite  occupa- 
tions, 1 60,  161  ;  her  reputed 
lovers,  161  ;  her  relations  with 
Voltaire,  161,  162  ;  resolved  to 
abjure  la  vie  passionnelle,  162, 
163  ;  rejects  the  advances  of  La 
Chalotais,  163,  164  ;  the  object 
of  a  violent  passion  on  the  part 
of  d'Argental,  164,  165 ;  her 
letter  to  his  mother,  Madame  de 
Ferriol,  165-168 ;  becomes  the 
mistress  of  Maurice  de  Saxe, 
171  ;  secret  of  her  devotion  to 
him,  172  ;  disposes  of  her  jewels 
to  assist  him  in  his  candidature 
for  the  throne  of  Courland,  175  ; 
unjustly  accused  by  him  of 
infidelity,  177  ;  charge  against 
the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon  of 


362 


INDEX 


having  attempted  to  poison  her, 
179-188  ;  her  last  appearance  on 
the  stage,  188-190  ;  her  death, 
190  ;  the  question  of  poison  con- 
sidered, 190,  191  ;  the  scandal  of 
her  burial,  191-195  ;  her  tloge 
written  by  Voltaire,  195,  196 

Le  Due,  Mile.,  supplants  Mile. 
de  Camargo  in  the  affections 
of  the  Comte  de  Clermont,  216- 
218 

Ledoux,  plays  a  trick  upon  Pre"si- 
dent  Lescot,  80-82 

Le  Grand,  134,  135  and  note,  193 
note 

Le  Kain,  156,  292,  313  and  note, 
330,  336  note 

Lemaure,  Mile.,  199 

Lemontey,  129;  (cited)  162,  172, 173 

Lenclos,  Ninon  de,  108-111 

Le  Roy,  Philippe,  lover  of  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur,  141,  142 

Lerys,  Francois  Joseph,  father  of 
Mile.  Clairon,  376 

Le  Sage,  (cited)  1 15 

Lescot,  President,  his  adventure 
with  Mile.  Moliere,  78-82 

Loiseleur,  M.  Jules,  57;  (cited)  9, 
10,  15 

Loret,  1 6 

Loo,  Jean  Baptiste  van,  137 

Loo,  Carle  van,  300  ;  his  portrait 
of  Mile.  Clairon,  319  note,  350 

Louis  XIII.,  6, 19 

Louis  XIV.,  12,  27,  64,  84,  114,  206 

Louis  XV.,  338 

Louis  XVI.,  325  note 

Lowendal,  Marechal,  231,  247,  265 

Lulli,  12,  13,  75,  82 

Luxembourg,  Due  de,  302 


M 


Machabtes,  Le  Motte's,  123 
Maintenon,  Madame  de,  121  note 
Malade  imaginaire,  Moliere's,  32, 

61-63,  7i 

Manage  fore/,  Moliere's,  29,  33,  35 
Mariamne,  Voltaire's,  154 
Marie  Leczinska,  Queen  of  France, 

154,326 

Mariette  (aanseuse),  204 
Marlborough,     Charles     Spencer, 

Duke    of,    his    propositions    re- 


jected by  Mile.  Clairon,  287  and 

note 

Markheim,  Mr.  Gegg,  (cited)  53,  54 
Marmontel,  269  ;  his  relations  with 

Mile.  Clairon,  307-313  ;    assists 

in  her  apotheosis  of  Voltaire,  335 ; 

(cited)  243  note,  293  note,  336 
Mars,  Mile.,  30 
Massillon,  denounces  the  theatre, 

1 20 

Maugras,  M.  Gaston,  (cited)  120 
Maurepas,  Comte  de,  192 
Maximes    et     reflexions     sur     la 

comtdie,  Bossuet's,  119 
Mazarin,  Cardinal,  68 
Me'decin  malgre  lui,  Moliere's,  29, 

49 

M^de'e,  Longpierre's,  116,  300 
Meister,  Henri,  347 
Mdicerte,  Moliere's,  49,  56,  85 
Melun,  Comte  de,  carries  off  Mile. 

de  Camargo,  208-2  r  i 
Mercure  de  France,  (cited)  24,  148, 

152,  153,  155,288,  301 
Mercure  galant,  (cited)  25 
Merlin,  Pere   (cure  of  Saint   Sul- 
pice),  refuses  ecclesiastical  burial 
to  Moliere,  63,  68 
Meusnier    (police-inspector),    229, 
255-256,   257;    (cited)  214,  242, 
253,  254,  265 

Michelet,  139  ;  (cited)  137,  138 
Mignard,  Pierre  (painter),  53,  60 
Misanthrope,  Moliere's,  29,  31,  33, 

37-39,53,54,55,78 
Mithrtdate,  Racine's,  99,  100 
Modene,    Comte    de,    5,   6,   7,   9, 

18 

Modene,  Comtesse  de,  5  and  note,  9 
Mold,  292,  330,  337  and  note 
Moliere,  his  marriage  with  Ar- 
mande  Bejart,  3 ;  abominable 
charge  brought  against  him  by 
Montfleury  pere,  n,  12;  the 
accusation  repeated  by  Guichard 
in  Elomire  hypocondre  and  in 
La  Fameuse  Comedienne,  12- 
15  ;  question  of  his  relations  with 
Madeleine  Be"jart  considered,  1 5- 
20 ;  becomes  the  lover  of  Mile, 
de  Brie,  17;  allusions  to  his  re- 
lations with  his  wife  in  his  plays, 
33-40 ;  his  jealousy,  40;  separated 
from  his  wife,  48  ;  supposed  con- 


INDEX 


363 


versation  with  Chapelle  at  Au- 
teuil,  49-55  ;  resumes  his  liaison 
with  Mile,  de  Brie,  55  ;  but  still 
adores  his  wife,  55;  reconciled 
to  her,  55,  56 ;  goes  to  reside  in 
the  Rue  de  Richelieu,  60 ;  his 
health  failing,  60,  61 ;  insists  on 
playing  in  Malade  imaginaire, 
62  ;  his  death,  62,  63 ;  refused 
ecclesiastical  burial,  63;  com- 
promise made,  64  ;  effect  of  his 
Tartuffe  upon  the  attitude  of 
the  Church  to  the  theatre,  69, 
70 ;  his  funeral,  70-72  ;  not  en- 
tirely blameless  for  his  domestic 
unhappiness,  73,  74 ;  his  genius 
not  fully  appreciated  by  his 
contemporaries,  83 

Moliere,  Madeleine,  85 

Moliere,  Mile. :  see  Bejart,  Ar- 
mande 

Monaco,  Princesse  de,  100 

Montalant,  M.  de,  marries  Made- 
leine Moliere,  85 

Montausier,  Due  de,  38 

Montespan,  Madame  de,  105,  106, 
212 

Montfleury,  fere,  his  abominable 
charge  against  Moliere,  n,  12, 
13,  15,  18,  19,40 

Montfleury,  fils,  11,40 

Monval,  M.  Georges,  130,  132, 163  ; 
(cited)  139,  193  and  note 

Mort  de  Pontpee,  La,  1 56 

Mounet-Sully,  M.,  138 

Myesses,  the  Demoiselles,  prose- 
cute Favart,  249,  251 

N 

Nantes,  Mile,  de,  212 

Navarre,  Mile,  (mistress  of  Maurice 

de  Saxe),  243  note,  307,  308 
Necker,  Madame,  (cited)  270 
Nicole,  Pere,  denounces  the  theatre, 

69 
Noury,  M.,  (cited)  90,  113 

O 

CEdipe,  Voltaire's,  189 
Oligny,  Mile,  d',  325  and  note,  326 
Orleans,  Gaston,  Due  d',  6 
Orleans,    Duchesse    d'    (Princess 
Palatine),  125,  213 


Orleans,  Regent  d',  125,  213 
Orphelin  de  la   Chine,   Voltaire's, 
294,.295>  3°o,  314 


Paleologue,  M.  Maurice,  (cited)  1 39, 

140,  171,  172 
Parabere,   Comtesse  de,    189  and 

note 
Parfaict,  Brothers,  72 ;  (cited)  25, 

95,  in 
Parisien,  Charles  de  Champmesle's, 

84,85,  113 

Parmentier,  231,  235,  239 
Peterborough,  Earl  of,  161 
Peter  the   Great,  Czar  of  Russia, 

145 

Phedre,  Pradon's,  103-105 
Phedre  et  Hippolyte,  Racine's,  102- 

106,  112,290,291,  351 
Piron,  158 

Poisson,  Mile.,  (cited)  24,  25 
Poisson,  Philippe,  satirises  Adrienne 

Lecouvreur  in  FActresse  nouvelle, 

IS' 

Polyeucte,Y\e.Tte.  Corneille's,i35,i36 

Pompadour,  Madame  de,  214,  322 

Pont-de-Veyle,  Marquis  de,  1 58 

Pre"ault  (sculptor),  138 

Preville,  292 

Prevost,  Mile,  (danseuse),  gives 
lessons  to  Mile,  de  Camargo, 
200 ;  intrigues  against  her,  202, 
204  ;  supplanted  by  her  in  the 
affections  of  the  public,  204-206 

Princesse  d1  Elide,  Moliere's,  28,  29, 
45,46 

Prungent(intendant  of  the  Duchess 
of  Brunswick),  161 

Psyche,  32  and  note,  56,  57,  59,  60 


Quinault,  Jean  Baptiste,  135 
Quinaults,  the,  150  and  note 
Quinault-Dufresne,  180  note 


Rachel,  Mile.,  30,  129,  156 

Racine,  Jean,  enraptured  at  Marie 
de  Champmesle's  rendering  of 
Hermione,  94  ;  gives  her  lessons 


364 


INDEX 


in  elocution,  94,  95  ;  makes  her 
his  mistress,  95  ;  his  dramatic 
duel  with  Pierre  Corneille,  96- 
98  ;  his  Bajazet,  98  ;  his  Mithri- 
date,  99  ;  his  Iphigtnieen  Aulide, 
IOO-IO2  ;  writes  his  /'htdre,  102, 
103 ;  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon 
and  Madame  Deshoulieres  per- 
suade Pradon  to  enter  the  lists 
against  him,  103  ;  production  of 
the  two  Pttidres,  104  ;  discredit- 
able tactics  of  Madame  de 
Bouillon  to  ruin  his  play,  104, 
105  ;  he  eventually  triumphs, 
105  ;  character  of  his  intimacy 
with  Marie  de  Champmesle,  107, 
108  ;  breaks  off  the  connection, 
in  ;  probable  reasons  for  his 
withdrawal  from  dramatic  author- 
ship, in,  112  and  note;  his 
letter  to  his  son,  Louis  Racine, 
on  Mile,  de  Champmesle's  death, 
122,  123 

Racine,  Louis,  112  note,  122,  123; 
(cited)  94,  96 

Regnier,  129;  (cited)  138,  148,  150 

Revel,  Comte  de,  107 

Riccoboni,  (cited)  147 

Riccoboni,  Madame,  (cited)  338 

Richelieu,  Abbe  de,  his  supposed 
liaison  with  Mile.  Moliere,  44, 

45»  46 

Richelieu,  Cardinal  de,  58,  266 
Richelieu,  Due  de,  211, 329, 334,  336 
Rieux,  President  de,  216,  217,  218 
Robinet,  (cited)  29,  31,  60 
Rohault  (physician),  53 
Rohan,  Cardinal  de,  82 
Rohan,  Chevalier  de,   his   quarrel 

with  Voltaire,  154,  155 
Rotrou,  Jean,  16 
Roucoux,  Battle  of,  238 
Roulle",   Pere,  denounces   Moliere, 

70 


Sainte-Beuve,     129,    179 ;     (cited) 

146,  190,  242 
Saint-Ren^     Taillandier,    M.     de, 

(cited)  242,  266  note 
Saint-Marc  (police-inspector),   his 

reports  to  Berryer,  304-306 
Salle\  Mile.,  219 
Samson,  351 


Saxe,  Maurice,  Marechal  de,  his 
early  life,  169,  170;  comes  to 
Paris,  170;  his  character,  170; 
becomes  the  lover  of  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur,  171,  172  ;  her  bene- 
ficial influence  over  him,  173  ; 
his  candidature  for  the  throne  of 
Courland,  173-176 ;  returns  to 
Paris,  176,  177  ;  unjustly  accuses 
Adrienne  Lecouvreur  of  in- 
fidelity, 177,  178  ;  the  object  of 
an  unrequited  passion  on  the 
part  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bouillon, 
179,  1 80;  present  at  Adrienne 
Lecouvreur's  death,  191  ;  unable 
to  prevent  the  indignity  offered 
to  her  remains,  194;  invites 
Favart  to  accompany  him  to 
Flanders,  231  ;  his  entry  into 
Brussels,  232-234;  orders  Favart 
to  announce  from  the  stage  his 
intention  to  engage  the  enemy, 
236-238 ;  wins  the  Battle  of 
Roucoux,  238  ;  conceives  a  violent 
passion  for  Justine  Favart,  240  ; 
his  letter  to  her,  240,  241  ;  steals 
Voltaire's  verses,  241  and  note  ; 
makes  Justine  his  mistress,  242, 

243  and  note  ;  discarded  by  her, 

244  ;  wins  the  Battle  of  Lawfeld, 
244,  245  ;  determined  to  recover 
his  prey,  245  ;  furious  at  Justine's 
escape,  247,248 ;  instigates  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  Brussels  Theatre 
to  prosecute  Favart,  249 ;  com- 
pels Justine  to  return  to  him,  but 
loses  her  again,  250,  251  ;  con- 
tinues   his    persecution    of   her 
husband,    251,    252;    persuades 
Justine's  father  to   apply  for  a 
lettre  de  cachet  against  her,  254  ; 
causes   her  to  be  arrested   and 
conveyed  to  Les  Grands-Andelys, 
257  ;    his   correspondence    with 
her,  258-262 ;    compels    her  to 
submit   to   him,   264,    265  ;    his 
death,  266  and  note  ;  Marmon- 
tel's  liberties  with  his   seraglio, 
307 

Scanapiecq,  Marie  (mother  of  Mile. 

Clairon),  276-281,  282,  284,  285 
Schlegel,    August    Wilhelm    von, 

(cited)  39,  135 
Seine,  Mile,  de,  150 


INDEX 


365 


SeVigne",  Madame  de,   (cited)   59, 

96,98,99,  1 08,  109,  1 10 
Sevignd,  Charles  de,  107,  108-111 
Sicilien,  Moliere's,  49 
Siege  de  Calais,  De  Belloy's,  300, 

328-331,  335 
Soubise,  Prince  de,  302 
Soulie",  Eudore,  9,  15 
Sourdis,  Marquis  de,  21 1,  212,  218 
Sturtz,  his    letter    to    Garrick  on 

Mile.  Clairon,  296-299 


Tallemant  des  Re"aux,  16 

Tancrede,  Voltaire's,  301 

Tartuffe,  Moliere's,  29,  65,  70,  155 

Taschereau,  M.,  43  note 

Theatre  du  Marais,  its  amalgama- 
tion with  Moliere's  troupe,  77,  78 

Thieriot,  161 

Titon  du  Tillet,  (cited)  72,  158 

Tourelle  (courtesan),  personates 
Mile.  Moliere,  80-8 1 

Tribou  (singer),  180  note 

Turlupin,  4  and  note 


Valbelle  d'Oraison,  Comte  de, 
amant  de  caur  of  Mile.  Clairon, 
318,  319 ;  offers  to  make  her  his 
wife  and  accompany  her  to 
Russia,  320  ;  has  a  gold  medal 
struck  in  her  honour,  320 ; 
quarrels  with  her,  341 
Varlet  de  la  Grange,  Charles,  73, 

75,  76  and  note,  78 
Vestris,  Madame,  171  note 
Vigee    Lebrun,    Madame,    (cited) 

347 
Villars,    Duchesse    de,   patronises 

Mile,  de  Camargo,  207 
Villeguillon,  M.  de,  317 
Villepinte,  M.  de,  322,  351 
Villeroi,  Duchesse  de,  332,  337 
Voisenon,  Abb6  de,  his   relations 
with  Justine   Favart,    267 ;    his 


bon  mot  at  the  first  representa- 
tion of  Les  Amours  de  Bastien 
et  Bastienne,  268 ;  overcomes 
Justine's  unwillingness  to  re- 
nounce the  theatre,  27 1  ;  (cited) 
265 

Voltaire,  production  of  his  Mart- 
amne,  1 54  ;  his  quarrel  with  the 
Chevalier  de  Rohan,  154,  155; 
indebted  to  Adrienne  Lecouvreur 
for  the  favourable  reception  of 
his  f 'Indiscret^  155  ;  his  relations 
with  Adrienne  Lecouvreur,  161, 
162  ;  present  at  her  death,  191  ; 
demands  that  an  autopsy  should 
be  held,  191  ;  refuses  to  believe 
that  she  was  poisoned,  192  note  ; 
endeavours  to  bring  about  a 
revolt  at  the  Come'die-Francaise, 

195  ;  his  poem  upon  Adrienne's 
death,  195  ;  writes  her  eloge,  195, 

196  ;  his  verses  to  Miles.  Camar- 
go and  Salle,  275  ;  his  Orphelin 
de  la   Chine,   294  and  314  and 
note  ;  triumph  of  Mile.  Dumesnil 
in  his   M  trope,  176 ;  success  of 
his   Tancrede,  301  ;  his  admira- 
tion of   Mile.   Clairon's  acting, 
312  ;  visited  by  Mile.  Clairon  at 
Ferny,  334, 335  ;  apotheosised  by 
her  and  Marmontel,  335  note 

W 

Walpole,  Horace,  (cited)  336,  344 
Wiirtemberg,  Prince  of,  sups  with 
Mile.  Gaussin,  306  note 

X 

Ximenes,  Marquis  de,  lover  of  Mile. 
Clairon,  317  ;  his  love  killed  by  a 
bon  mot,  317  ;  his  retort,  318 


Zaire,   Voltaire's,   Mile.    Gaussin's 
acting  in,  275 


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